There is One Zero
by bankai117
Summary: If you told me that the whole theory about parallel universes was real then I would reply, "it's just a theory." Now...well I mean, I was in the middle of a war zone but suddenly I'm here? Wherever this place is? And add the fact that these people are speaking Japanese...I'm a Marine god damn it, the hell would I know about speaking Japanese!
1. Prologue

A/N: Re: Zero has been stuck in my head for like the past week and a half and well, I just thought "screw it" and went for it. I've got a base outline on how I want the story to develop so yes, my hopefully future readers, you're in for a long ride. Definitely gonna pass the 100k mark that much i can pretty much guarantee unless something happens. Also this chapter is only a prologue so it's only around 3k, most of my chapters will be around 10k.

So without further ado, enjoy.

* * *

His senses were going wild.

 _Death!_

Being brave doesn't mean jack when you were being swarmed with 7.62 caliber rounds.

 _Death!_

It also doesn't mean jack when you were outnumbered, too much to count to 1.

 _Survive…._

'That's right! All I've gotta do is survive. The dead are dead and the wounded are 'bout to be dead. I've just gotta survive until reinforcements come ' The young soldier frantically thought to himself, nearly on the verge of panicking.

This wasn't who he was, or so he liked to think so but so far it didn't look like he was going to get any medals soon.

 _Coward!_

Well if being a coward behind a wall inside a building means living then he'd happily be a coward for as long he liked. However his precious cover was steadily dwindling as more incoming fire punched holes through the normally sturdy walls.

His heart beat rapidly inside his chest, almost threatening to burst out of his chest. His senses were heightened from adrenaline. His uniform was caked with sweat and dirt and splotches of blood, none of it his own. Around him his comrades were dead or dying. The wounded able to move still holding their rifles and blazing away in desperation.

They said reinforcements would arrive in 10 minutes. That was an hour ago.

His platoon commander and squad leaders were dead leaving his unit scrambled in the chain of command. Communication was cut from the other platoons, leaving them in the dark despite their close proximity.

He was only a PFC. A boot as they like to label him. Leading whatever was left of his platoon? In this mess? Hell no, way above his pay grade and ability.

"RPG! Get down!"

Snapping out of his senses he ducked and braced for the impact. Immediately he felt the RPG slam viciously into the building causing the bullet ridden building to shake and groan from the explosion and shock wave that threatened to topple it.

'My first deployment is gonna be the death of me!' He thought as he looked around precariously, almost feeling the impending collapse.

"We've gotta get out of here! Buildings gonna collapse!" That was the corporal. Surprising he was still alive.

"And the wounded!?" He yelled back in response,his hoarse voice barely carrying over the sounds of battle.

The corporal looked offended at the question. "Bitch! We drag 'em out of here!" Before he could retort the corporal began issuing orders to everyone else within earshot.

"Everyone able to walk, grab a wounded and get out of here! Get to the building across from us! 3-1 is still combat capable, reinforce them and dig in!" The corporal turned to him, unfazed at the battering they were taking. "You're my runner! Tell 3-1 we're coming over and make sure the route is clear! Cover us as we cross the street!"

Alright he could do that but something lingered in his mind. "What about the dead?!" He could feel the burning gazes of the still functional bearing into him as he asked the question.

The corporal didn't answer, only shaking his head. And that was all the answer he needed, he was probably going to die. This city was lost, they were stretched too thin to begin with and when the fuckers attacked? The whole damn city attacked with them. A company of Marines could only do so much against a damn city.

He didn't want to die! He had family back home! He didn't even get the chance to do anything! For fucks sakes he was only 19! And the best part was that he couldn't make a damn difference, he was only one man and he wasn't some Chesty Puller or Dan Daly figure.

 _You're going to Die_

His head snapped up and for a moment the corporal locked eyes with him. He knew it too, so did everyone else here. He was merely slow on the uptake, believing he was actually going to make it out.

Taking a slow exhale he nodded at the Marine before turning around and began running towards his new objective.

He began running to his death.

 _Coward?_

He wanted to live.

 _Live_.

 _Live_.

 _Live!_

But that was impossible, he was going to die. No doubt about it.

'Cover fire you say? You make it seem like I can poke my head up long enough to give you cover fire.' He morbidly thought to himself as he practically leaped down the steps.

His platoon commander received at bullet to the chest from a sniper. A sniper they had yet to root out. If he exposed himself to give them cover fire….

Well the picture painted itself.

As he reached the bottom floor he darted to the doorway, only pausing to check the area. He braced himself against the wall and with a large exhale waited for a lull in the rain of bullets to cross the street.

Looking around he found some semblance of cover still remaining on the barren street. Those being the burned out cars that littered the area. It wasn't ideal but at least he wasn't completely exposed.

Feeling the lull in the fire he swallowed his fear and sprinted across the street. As if a switch had been turned on a hail of lead began splashing around him. The whizzing and snaps of incoming bullets only highlighting his fears as they passed inches away from his body.

Only pausing for a quick breather as he reached the building he quickly bounded up the stairs, shouting all the while.

"Friendly coming up! Hold your fire!" Repeating the call several times to ensure the trigger happy Marines didn't blow him away thinking he was a "towel head" or a "sand nigger."

Sprinting up the stairs he passed a number of Marines running in the opposite direction, presumably to reinforce the others in the lower floors. He stopped a passing marine.

"Where's your platoon commander?!"

With a grunt the Marine shrugged his grip and proceeded to run down the stairs but not before hollering out an answer.

"Floor above us!"

Mentally groaning at the prospect of going up another floor the young PFC quickly bounded up the steps.

After reaching the designated floor he burst through the stairway doors and made his past the injured Marines that were strewn about along the hallways. Blood caked the walls, the cries of the wounded pierced the roar of gunfire. The dead were merely laid on the ground, almost seemingly as if they were merely asleep.

Gritting his teeth he looked straight ahead forcing himself to look away from the pained and hopeless expressions on some of the marines.

He quickly came across a man frantically running around, giving orders and coordinating the defense.

'He must be the platoon commander.' With that thought he jogged over to the man, giving him a tap on the shoulder to announce his presence.

"What is it?" The man sharply asked turning to face the young PFC.

The young marine saw the marks of a Staff Sergeant on the commander's uniform.

He left the tone of the Staff Sergeant brush off of him, the man must be stressed to the max. "The building 3-2 is in is about to collapse so they're moving their wounded here. We'll reinforce yall and hold here."

The Staff Sergeants eyes glanced over at his own wounded. An expression of worry crossed his face before it was replaced by grim determination. "Alright." He grunted. "We'll hold here and wait for backup."

"...how many are combat capable?" He finally asked after a moment of silence.

The PFC bit his lips. "Not many, we're down to maybe 30% combat effectiveness." If even that.

He merely received a simple nod in return. It was all he needed before he made his own to the stairs.

Time to face the music and the composers were a bunch of clowns with towels over their heads and wielding the old but reliable AK-47s and RPGs.

'Then again these fuckers are kicking our asses right now.' Though he held the idea that it took a whole fucking city to give them trouble on a somewhat high regard.

As he passed the lower floors, the fear that he had swallowed began to slowly grip him once more. His limbs felt heavy. His M16A4 service rifle felt like a long metal brick in the cramped quarters. His vest was full with ammunition after having pilfered a bunch of magazines from the dead. That was an experience he would remember for a very long time and not for the right reasons.

His body moved on autopilot. His mind was a chaos of thoughts. Chances were he wouldn't survive the next few minutes. However in the midst of chaos, death and destruction his train of thought went back to his drill instructor during his final days of recruit training at Parris Island.

" _You'll never be alone in a fight. The man next to you is a Marine. You are a Marine. He won't let you down nor will you let him down for you are a Marine. A killer by day, lover by night and a Marine by the grace God. You have earned your right to fight with the Eagle, Globe and Anchor on your body. Represent the Corps by killing the fuckers trying to kill you."_

That's right he was a Marine. America's elite fighting force, America's devil dogs. The hell he went through in recruit training and SOI had to be for something.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the ever rising crescendo of bullets hitting pavement. Stopping he looked across the street to find the building his platoon was in beginning to crumble away as a storm of lead and rockets pounded against its already weak structure.

Staring at the doorway across from him he saw the first few battered Marines run through the doorway and out into the streets. A complete disregard to their safety and the buddies on their shoulders as they braved the sea of bullets.

It was now or never.

Taking deep breath he charged out and met the storm head on. Sliding into a burned out wreckage of a car he set up his rifle and aimed down the ACOG sight.

The enemy was roughly 400 meters out, scattered throughout windows, rooftops, alleyways and in whatever nooks and crannies they could find.

400 meters out...Marines got qualified out to 500 meters during recruit training. This was quite like target practice except this time, the targets shot back.

Whatever the case may be, he didn't need to be pinpoint accurate nor did he have the time to be. His job was one thing, suppress the enemy as best as he can along with the other Marines. That was it, simple.

He aimed at a small cluster of enemies and his finger depressed on the trigger, his service rifle barking out in approval.

Again.

Again.

And again he pulled the trigger, as fast as he could before switching over to burst fire. The recoil pushed the weapon against his shoulder and threw off his aim but despite it he kept the weapon under control.

" _Every Marine is a first and foremost a rifleman. Be it a desktop paperwork lieutenant or a ground-side aviation technician, all of you amphibian shits WILL be a rifleman before anything else!"_

Click!

Cursing inwardly he ducked down and frantically began reloading his empty rifle. Barely a heartbeat later his rifle was propped up against the car and was spewing out death and destruction at whatever it was pointed at.

Out of his peripherals he saw marines carrying the wounded sprint across the open road but it wasn't enough. The enemy was too many and too spread out to be effectively suppressed with their numbers.

He reached down to his kevlar vest. He had 2 fragmentation grenades and a single smoke grenade. Without hesitation he prepped the smoke grenade and tossed it into the streets giving the crossing marines a better chance at making it across.

Popping back up be blazed away across the terrorists, whoever they may be. He didn't care who they were, not at this point. He was also aware of the steady increase in accuracy of the rounds pelting his cover. He was sure the sniper was out there, taking aim and ranging in his shots.

It was strange really, he was sure time had slowed down or something because it seemed like it was forever ago when he first took aim kneeling in the bullet ridden streets. The train of wounded never seemed to end.

"Last one coming out!"

'Finally!' With that he slapped in a new magazine before repeating the process he had repeated for however long he had been out here.

Before he could re-engage however the last Marine let out a piercing cry as a bullet ripped through his thigh, causing him to drop the wounded Marine he was carrying. Both wounded Marines tumbled to the ground kicking up dust and rocks.

Looking on the young PFC looked on at his veteran seniors on the ground, one critically wounded and the other bleeding out as precious crimson life fluids poured out of his mangled leg.

Hesitation gripped the young marine. He was confused, should he stop firing and help them or what? His job was to suppress the enemy. He was sure someone would realize that the two were wounded.

Someone.

Anyone?

He looked around, all the marines were in the building now. He was the only one that knew the situation here, he had to act.

 _Move_.

 _Save them._

 _Stop being a coward._

 _Their fate is in your hands._

 _SAVE THEM!_

Vaguely he heard a roar of anguish, terror and anger as he ran to the downed men. Vaguely he realized he was the one making that ugly sound.

"RPG! GET DOWN!"

Vaguely he realized that someone had just yelled and not so vaguely his body jolt in shock causing him to tumble down into the sandy dirt roads.

He had been shot.

Underneath him blood started to rapidly pool, staining his uniform in dark crimson. Looking up he found the stray RPG speeding towards towards them, almost in slow motion. And as the RPG neared them, his vision faded into white, his last sight, the two bloody and dying Marines just beyond the reach of his fingers. Their desperate pleas for help and hopeless expression in their eyes being burned into his mind.

He had failed…..

* * *

After Action Report:

20190705:

June 25, 2019. A company of Marines faced a large unknown number of hostiles in the city of Fallujah, Iraq. Estimates state anywhere between seven to nine thousand militiamen and civilians engaged in hostilities against the company of Marines.

After contacting FOB Viper for a QRF, miscommunication and delays prevented reinforcements from arriving until approximately eighty one minutes after the initial call. The company was forced to down roughly twenty five percent combat effectiveness by the time the QRF had arrived on the scene.

Casualties: 142

KIA: 64

MIA:3

Addendum: It is to be noted that the bodies of Sgt Bruce Howard, Lance Corporal Kaiden Luis and Private First Class Jayce Allster were unable to be found at or near the impact of a rocket propelled grenade. As Staff Sergeant Ham noted in his report the three Marines "disappeared without a trace" after the impact of the rocket propelled grenade. There are no signs of any belongings from the three Marines surviving the impact. No articles of their clothing, equipment or even DNA were found on scene with the exception of the spots of blood from Sgt Howard, Lance Corporal and _Private First Class Allster_ who were wounded prior to the impact. As of today, July 5th 2019 the three Marines will be labeled as Missing in Action.

Sgt Howard shall posthumously be awarded the Purple Heart and Bronze Star for his actions on June 25th 2019.

Lance Corporal Luis shall posthumously be awarded the Purple Heart for his actions on June 25th 2019.

Private First Class Allster shall posthumously be awarded the Purple Heart and the Silver Star for his actions on June 25th 2019.

* * *

So tell me what you think, well to be honest there really wasn't too much going on here aside from setting everything up for the next chapter. Also you may have taken notice that throughout the chapter the Marines remained nameless, only addressed and characterized by rank or simply Marine. This to give the Marines as just people with nothing out of the ordinary, well to be honest there's nothing ordinary about Marines but you get the idea. I wanted to paint the picture as no one being the lone "hero" and showing the humanity in each Marine. They feel fear, hate, and every emotion a regular civilian does. They just have the courage to push forward despite that.

It's only in the after action report does a small handful of names are mentioned, one of which is our main protagonist. Hopefully yall caught that. It shows that to the higher ups, these Marines while human are merely a statistic to them. It may not represent the Pentagon or the Department of Defense and whatnot but that's what I wanted to show.

Also Rem is best girl...that is all


	2. The Painful Revelation

A/N: Yeah so I am really tired right now so, this chapter is raw as a me and that one woman the other day going at it. Just kidding, please don't report me. In any case I am going to put the chapter up and then fix it later, tomorrow morning actually of the grammar and spelling error that is no doubt there but right now I just want to put it up so the readers can enjoy it. Hopefully.

Also to my guest reviewer, for one I suggest you get an account so I can PM you personally. Easy for me that way but meh, it's just my suggestion. Two you wrote down "another Marine author" with me and Faust and yes I know Faust, we've exchanged a couple messages before. For one I'm not a Marine, well I was trying to but I was medically discharged when they found out that I had this eye condition while in boot camp aka recruit training. In short I shipped out this year July 25th and returned home September 5th with my DD214, which is my discharge papers. That really hurt me considering I wanted to be a Marine since I was a kid. In any case my recruiters told me if I wanted to go back I have to do surgery to fix my eyes, gonna be spending hardcore money on that bull shit. So yeah, got discharged and now I'm trying to go back. So there a little about me. Hope that cleared some stuff up.

Anyway, enough with my rambling. Enjoy the story.

* * *

The change was sudden and abrupt. One moment he surrounded by the oppressive heat of the Middle East but now he only felt the cool subtle wind that danced across his face. Even more surprising was the change in scenery whereas the boring brown drab of the desert had been replaced by the vibrant green of woodland forests.

Still as amazing and grateful he was to be out of danger there was still one glaring issue. He was in complete agony.

Currently he had a nickel sized hole in his stomach, the only upside being that the bullet punched clean through meaning a smaller exit wound. Still while his guts may have been spared from being exposed to the outside world he was still losing an alarming amount of blood and the problems only continued to mount from there.

Groaning in pain PFC Jayce Allster managed himself into a kneeling position, finally taking taking a good look at his surroundings.

The forest he was in was rather quiet with the birds chirping and the sound of small insects carrying over the gentle breeze. However his eyes caught something else, the other wounded Marines.

They were strewn about on top of each other and for a moment he had thought the two had perished. Only the low groans proved the that they were indeed alive but only just.

Holding his bloody stomach he slowly half crawled, half walked his way to the two wounded. From an immediate viewpoint it didn't look good.

Sergeant Howard had been shot in his right thigh, he wasn't so lucky. The bullet had done it's purpose and practically bulldozed it way through his thigh and left a large exit wound. At this point the limb merely holding on by, quite literally pieces of flesh and skin. The sight made him gag.

Next to the Sergeant was Lance Corporal Luis who had been heavily injured during the opening minutes of the firefight. He was in critical condition with loss of blood, severe concussion and numerous shrapnel wounds both light and deep throughout his body. The injuries he received made him the most injured of the trio and with the Sergeants mangled leg, everything was put on the PFCs shoulder.

Swallowing he began to apply whatever immediate treatment he could do to help stem the bleeding of the Sergeants leg.

Thankfully the two Marines had passed out, making it easier for him to apply the first aid treatment without much trouble.

In the back of his mind however he began to have doubts whether or not he could take care of the two Marines. Their injuries were too fatal and he wasn't too well versed in treating the kind of wounds they had received.

For the briefest of moments he contemplated leaving the Marines to their fate but quickly shot down the idea. He was better than that but to his shame and self hatred, the thought continued to linger long after he finished helping the Marines and began focusing on his own injury.

He didn't know how long he had been treating his bullet wounds but he had noticed that the forest suddenly seemed quiet. Far too quiet for his liking as the sounds of nature that welcomed him disappeared.

Something was coming.

 _Protect…._

He grabbed his rifle and glanced back to the still unconscious Marines.

 _Run…._

A million thoughts raced in his mind, he needed to find someone to help them. Whatever town, village or city he'd be grateful for anything at this point.

More importantly he had to get the two Marines out of here, it was beginning to become dangerous with whatever that was out there and nightfall slowly approaching.

He was running out time both for him and the injured.

"Fuck it." He grunted, moving towards the duo. Taking a knee he winced as a flash of pain speared throughout his stomach. Reaching out towards the Sergeant's face he began lightly tapping his face in an effort to wake him up.

After a couple tries and no luck he sighed in frustration.

 _Give up….._

Shaking the thought away he began to gently pick the Sergeant up in a fireman's carry, careful to not agitate his injured limb. Grunting at the extra weight he grabbed the Sergeants hand and non injured left leg and held the two together with his right hand. Using his left arm he grabbed the Lance Corporal by the back of his kevlar vest and began slowly dragging him behind him as he walked forward.

He began his walk to salvation however far away it may be.

As he trudged forward, burdened by the weight of two Marines and their equipment, his sense of trepidation grew as the minutes passed.

Constantly, his eyes darted around looking for the unseen threat that was surely there.

Something had been stalking him for a while now, how long he didn't know but by now it had to be a couple hours. Even during his handful of breaks over the course of his lone march the sense of being watched only grew. It didn't help that he was alone in some random land that he had no idea how he got there.

Unless they were magically teleported, which was honestly starting to become a very real possibility as much of an asinine conclusion that was.

He sighed in relief as he reached a clearing. He set the two Marines down gently near a tree, careful to not aggravate their injuries. As he carefully laid Lance Corporal Luis down he took a hesitant glance at his face. It looked unnaturally pale though he had lost a lot of blood so it made sense.

He bit his lips at that before finding something else. Perhaps even more alarming than anything else.

He was getting weaker. Not entirely from physical exhaustion necessarily but something more pressing.

Blood loss.

He could feel his vision slowly swimming in dizziness. It was starting to get bad and he could see that if he didn't get proper medical care soon then, he'd pass out too. Which meant almost certain death for the other two Marines who had been unconscious all this time.

That in itself was something to look into, it was weird that both the Sergeant and Lance Corporal were still unconscious. Although he did see that at one point the Sergeant was fading in and out of consciousness before succumbing back into unconsciousness.

Either way he had to find help, quick and if that not too far off smoke was any sign then help was right around the corner. He just needed a quick break and-

"Grrrrr….."

His blood froze as the ominous growl reached his ears. Turning around he found a wolf like creature with black fur and red eyes Staring right at him. With its razor sharp teeth bared it was clear the creature had anything but peaceful intentions.

Cursing inwardly he brought his rifle up and leveled the sights on the wolf's lookalikes head.

He swallowed some accumulated spit in nervousness and almost instantaneously his stress levels spiked once more.

 _Kill_ ….

"Come on….come on….back off." He lowly whispered to himself, edging himself towards his injured comrades. And in doing so closing the distance between him and the beast.

Suddenly and without warning the wolf attacked, it's powerful legs propelling it forward.

Without thought he reacted and fired his rifle, a three round burst slamming into the beast and stopping it cold as it slid into the ground.

However before he could relax a chilling howl echoed throughout the forest.

"...Fuck my life." The grunt whined before moving to pick up the injured.

Grabbing the Sergeant in a similar manner he attempted to bring the injured Marine in a fireman's carry only for both of them to fall to the ground.

His legs had given out and it was only now did he realize that he had a hard time standing back up.

'No...no, no, no...come on legs. Fucking COME ON!' He cried internally in desperation.

They had to get out of here, as fast as possible but his legs simply refused to work. Long hours of marching on top of an hour of rough combat had worn down his already exhausted and battered body.

However….his gaze turned to the two Marines.

 _Run…._

 _Leave them…._

 _Dead weight…._

… _.Live_

His hands gripped his rifle hard, he couldn't run away, not now. Not when salvation seemed so close.

They wouldn't leave him behind if the situation had been reversed, they would rather stand tall and die protecting him.

And so would he.

 _Foolish…._

Oh he knew it was foolish but despite what his mind said. Despite it being like the right thing to do, something made him stay. Something in his heart made him want to stay with his Marines….his brothers and protect them.

Gritting his teeth he grabbed the Sergeant and placed him near the center of the clearing. Quickly jogging over to the Lance Corporal he did the same. He put them side by side and grabbed a handful of magazines from their pouches and laid them on the ground near his feet.

And so he kneeled there in the open clearing, his comrades sleeping peacefully and him in front of them, waiting for the oncoming onslaught. And in the evening skies where the blue sky began to turn into a red hue PFC McAllster locked and loaded.

Prepared to give his life for the Marines behind him.

In the dead silence of the forest he could hear the thumping of his heart louder than anything else.

Louder than his rifle clicking into semi auto.

Louder than the wind that blew.

Louder than the steady flurry of footsteps that most certainly didn't belong to any human.

Suddenly and without warning a couple of the wolf like beasts bursted out of the treeline and made a beeline for the injured trio. Only to be halted by a flurry of 5.56 caliber rounds fired from the barrel of an M16.

Mentally he rejoiced a little at seeing the couple of wolves fall. Perhaps it was because of mental and physical exhaustion but it didn't matter to him. The creatures attacking him were very much alive in the sense that it could be killed.

It gave him some relief that he wasn't fighting some monstrosity.

However just because one or two were easy kills didn't mean a whole entire pack of the fuckers would be.

Almost immediately whatever sense of elation died as he saw the numerous glowing red eyes that peered into the clearing.

His teeth clenched….how many were out there?

'Come on you fuckers, have at it.' He mentally growled, leveling his sights on a pair of eyes and letting his service rifle rip into the attacking animals.

Out of his peripherals he could see that a large handful had flanked him, effectively surrounding him on nearly all sides. There was only one exit and that was directly behind him and that route would take him straight to the closest settlement where he saw the rising of smoke.

As much as it was an opening it was also a trap. The animals expected him to take the one route and then pounce on him from all sides while using the trees to get in close.

Clever, if he was honest.

However unbeknownst to the creatures, he was in this for the long haul.

Snapping his attention to the right he popped off a couple rounds in rapid succession killing one and forcing the rest to back off.

Taking no break he spun around a full 180, catching a handful crossing out the tree line and into the open.

From one target to another he quickly downed several but was unsuccessful at killing any of them. That was fine though, the downed wolves would be too wounded to press the attack anyway.

Snapping back to his front he found the wolves cautiously moving about. Their prey was a beginning to be a tough nut to crack.

Amidst the combat the young PFC noticed something of a fear in the wolves.

His rifle. Rather it was more accurate to say the sound his rifle made.

The creatures were unfamiliar of the sound of gunfire, it frightened them. Forced a sense of danger in their instincts.

It was a weakness he was going to exploit.

Uncaring of any collateral damage he may or may not cause he flicked his selector switch back into burst fire and emptied the rest of the magazine into the forest before reloading.

He could hear number of whimpers from the cover of the treeline, some of his rounds had struck true. The burst of fire had scared away the pack but sense of foreboding still lingered.

They were regrouping.

"It's like the furry shits are being controlled." He whispered to himself as he slowly inched towards his teammates.

After tense moments of stressful quiet the young Marine came to his decision.

They were getting out of here while they had some time.

Slinging his rifle across his chest he grabbed the magazines off the floor of the forest and shoved it on his body. From the cargo pockets to whatever space he had on his vest he crammed in the extra mags.

Reaching down he ignored any format of gentle treatment as he simply grabbed both Marines by the back of their kevlar vests and proceeded to drag both of them as he sprinted towards civilization.

His movements however was noticeably slower than before as he struggled to push through the exhaustion and thick vegetation.

Another chilling howl caused a shiver to run down his spine.

 _Faster…_

He just had a little more to go.

… _.Faster_

The sounds of his stomping feet gave way to the thumping of his heart and labored gulps of air.

 _FASTER MARINE!_

He roared in defiance as his muscles burned from exertion, as his stomach wound leaked even more life precious fluids. As his grip on his comrades threatened to loosen.

 _Fight!_

Dropping the injured Marines he turned around to find another pack closing in on him.

With tired arms he hefted his rifle up and began blazing away at the fast moving silhouettes that approached him. Letting his rifle sling over his chest again he grabbed a grenade from his vest and primed the explosive.

With a grunt he lobbed it in front of him, intent on using the explosion as cover to grab his buddies and retreat.

If anything it would buy him a few seconds.

Not bothering to see the results of the lone grenade he turned around, grabbed the injured and began moving away from the approaching pack.

He ignored the near deafening explosion and the resulting concussive force from that engulfed him as he ran with an almost single minded zeal.

Almost there….

He could see the forest beginning to open up.

At the same time he could practically feel the snapping jaws of those demonic looking wolves.

As much as he was getting closer to relative safety the damn persistent four legged bastards were closing in even faster. They smelled his blood, his weakness.

Every step seemed more impossible than those last. His wound hurt. His body hurt. Everything hurt. He wanted to stop moving, rest for a couple seconds but doing so would mean his death.

He had to keep moving, even if he had to sell a part of his soul to the devil with every step he had to keep moving.

 _Come closer….._

Something else reached his ears, voices. Of people.

Hope swelled in his chest.

 _I'll save you…._

Yes! They could save him and his Marines!

 _I'll protect you…_

That was fine! As long as he and his buddies received medical treatment.

… _..You need me_

He tripped, falling face first into the ground. Recovering as fast as he could he shot up with his rifle raised and looked around. "Who the fuck…"

"Grrrr…"

Hearing the growls he snapped out his trance and stumbled to his feet. He slogged his battered body towards salvation and with his comrades in tow he pushed for the final stretch, uncaring for the deep gasps of air as he desperately tried to inhale as much oxygen as he could.

After what felt like an eternity the trio of Marines practically exploded out of the dense woods.

The first thing that PFC Allster saw were bunch of small stone and wooden buildings.

Finally!

Finally he had found civilization which meant they could help him. It also meant that the wolves would be less likely to attack. Hopefully.

Still though he had to cross an open field to reach the outskirts of the village and the best part was that he could see a gathering of villagers starting to form.

The distance from the treeline and the edges of the villages couldn't have been more than 200 yards. Normally running such a short distance was child's play for the Marine but in this case, lugging his 5 foot 9 frame burdened by two Marines along with their full gear, it proved to be the longest 200 yards of his life.

With an agonizing last couple of steps the young Marine finally allowed himself to collapse in front of the villagers. He didn't mind the stares he got nor could he blame them for staring so intently.

After taking taking a moment to catch his breath and very briefly rest his legs he stood back up, albeit with some difficulty.

He looked around trying to find someone in some sort of leadership position whoever they may be.

"Hey-" Before he could continue he was cut off by cacophony of barking. Snapping his head back to the woods he found his pursuers had caught up and showed no signs of stopping like he had hoped for.

"Fuck!" He cursed out loud before grabbing one of the villagers, a male to be precise. He pointed at the injured Marines.

"Take them to safety!" He roared at the man, his nonexistent patience showing. To his surprise and horror however the man didn't understand him, merely standing there with a panicked and confused expression.

Cursing in frustration he pointed at the two Marines. "Them!" Then at the houses. "Safe!"

It was only after an old man taking initiative did the man follow. Seemed like the grandpa pieced things together. Thank god for old people.

By now the majority of the villagers had already began retreating back into their homes, leaving a small detail to take care of the injured duo.

Turning around to face the rapidly approaching pack of wolves he spared a hesitant glance at the Sergeant and Lance Corporal. He was taking a risk leaving them to the villagers but he didn't much of a choice. It was either leave them in the hands of the unknown people or protect them while he fought off the wolves. A hard prospect if the numbers of the damned creatures meant anything.

As he took a knee and aimed down his sights once more he made made a mental note of the fact that the demonic wolves were already within at least 100 yards.

Gritting his teeth at the prospect of the upcoming fight he let his rifle loose with authority, making sure to make every single shot count.

As he let loose upon the approaching pack he heard the civilians scream as the heard the loud bark of his service rifle. It only proved to annoy him further. As if a language barrier wasn't bad enough.

Shoving the errant thought to the back of his mind he focused on lining up his shots in an accurate and efficient manner. He had to whittle down their numbers a much as he could before the got into close quarters.

Switching from one target to another he found himself getting into a grove, a rhythm almost. Even so however he quickly found it harder with every passing second to ignore the burning sensation in his arms.

With an ominous click his rifle refused to fire. Cursing he ejected the empty magazine before putting in a new one but before he could send the bolt home he found that the wolves had closed the distance.

With a loud thud he was sent tumbling to the ground. For a moment he laid there breathless before his brain drove into overdrive. One of the beasts was on top of him, the vicious looking teeth only held back by his rifle that was wedged in its jaw. It was the only thing holding the beast back and even that wouldn't be enough with the others closing in fast.

With a roar of defiance he rolled over, pinning the demonic looking wolf under him. Yanking his rifle from the jaws of the beast he smashed the buttstock into the side of its head. A textbook strike, killing it instantly.

Grunting he quickly got off the dead beast, slammed the bolt home and began backpedaling while desperately trying to hold back the tide of the animals. He wouldn't be able to kill all of the fuckers, at least not without some help or a genius plan. Neither of which seemed abundant in this case.

All he could do was to fight a retreating battle, making sure the damned villagers got the injured injured to safety. After that….well he didn't think that far ahead.

Right now all he could think about was ending the fuckers trying to having an even munch.

He growled as his rifle clicked empty once more. Unable to change magazines he slung his rifle and switched to his sidearm.

Pulling out his M45 standard issue pistol he reengaged the enemy however despite his efforts a couple managed to get close the distance. The sheer numbers of the wolves were beginning to overwhelm him.

Grunting from exertion he kicked one back before putting a round into its head, spraying brain matter into the ground that was steadily getting doused in blood and gore.

Suddenly he was blindsided by a stray that had escaped his attention. Yelping in surprise and pain the young fell onto his back once more as one of the charcoal beasts latched onto his left arm.

Blood began pouring out of the fresh wound, dripping on his face almost mocking him of his injury. With his left arm holding back the wolf he placed the muzzle of his pistol underneath its chin and fired the last round of the magazine. The slide going back showing the empty chamber of his pistol.

Pushing the weight of the wolf off of him he look up to find more screaming. To his further surprise and horror the detail in charge of the injured Marines had dropped the duo and proceeded to run away.

What made matters worse was the group of wolves approaching the downed men. What pissed him off even more was the fact that the old man was the only one who had stayed, his thin and frail frame still trying to pull the two Marines despite the danger he was in.

Raw anger fueled his exhausted and battered body. It being the driving force that enabled him to ignore the searing pain in his left arm and abdomen.

With a terrifying roar he brandished his Ka-Bar and charged headlong into the small pack.

His first victim was the "leader" of the pack. Forgoing tactics he lowered his shoulder and bulldozed straight into the side of the beast, slamming it into the stone ground. With a vicious stomp to the neck he ended its life before changing targets and slashing at the black figure of a wolf lunging at him.

Ignoring the whimper of the grievously injured wolf he tackled another four legged figure. Raising his bloody knife up he quickly and viciously stabbed the victim underneath him repeatedly, turning the neck area of the beast into gory mush.

A loud bark got his attention, forcing him to turn and see a wolf already about to sink his teeth into his body. Without care he turned to face the beast, prepared to give up another part of him to kill the damned creatures. However before any contact could be made a sharp shard of ice speared its way into the body of the wolf.

He turned to find an odd sight. A girl with silver hair and two practically identical maids with red and blue hair. Best part was the floating shard of ice around them and the metal spiked ball of death welded by the blue haired one. Also...

'Since when did cats fucking float?' He thought to himself seeing the floating feline next to the silver haired girl.

He was snapped out his trance however when he saw a black blur out of his peripherals, one that was going towards the old man and the injured Marines.

With his rifle and pistol empty he reacted in an almost frantic manner as he ripped off his helmet and _threw_ it at the wolf. As the helmet struck the black beast, it turned to face the being responsible only find said being bearing down on it with a vengeful expression.

Half crawling and half leaping he chased down the threat and threw his body into the creature. With a satisfying thud the beast was sent flying into a wall. Without pause and grunting in exertion he crawled on top of said beast only to find a single red eye glaring up at him. Grabbing its neck in a death grip he mercilessly drove the sharp and bloody knife into its eye, making sure to twist it up and through the brain and skull.

Getting off the dead creature he stumbled towards the old man who was looking at him in horror. For what he didn't particularly care.

As he stumbled forward he reloaded his pistol and in his peripherals he saw something in the distance, simply watching him.

It was a small black puppy but something seemed _wrong_ about the damn thing and in the haze of battle he aimed at the little thing and fired. Off in the distance he saw a small explosion of blood but to his surprise the little puppy began scampering away, blood pouring out of its head.

The .45 had only grazed the damn thing, forcing it to flee. As soon as it did however the black demonic looking wolves began to beat a hasty retreat. It didn't help that the trio of women joined in on the fray chasing the things away into the woods.

Panting from exertion he found himself collapsing onto his knees. Turning to look at the duo of injured Marines he found it surprising to find both of them completely still, the rising and falling of their chests absent.

Panic gripped his heart as he crawled towards them, unknowing of the trail of blood he was leaving.

'No...no, no. Come on you fuckers, you guys can't be dead!' He thought to himself in despair.

Whatever hope he had was destroyed when he reached the duo and found them completely still, unmoving to the world around them. It was as if they were merely taking a nap with their peaceful expressions.

Perhaps it was because of exhaustion or perhaps he simply had enough of holding everything back but he couldn't help the tears that began falling down his face.

What had all this been for? His Marines were dead and he himself was half dead too and the result of the torment he went through in the past several hours were for nothing.

He pushed himself physically to get them out of danger. And they died.

He swallowed his sinful temptations and refused to leave them behind. And they died.

He bled for them. And they died.

"What the fuck…." He sobbed out as he gripped the Sergeants kevlar vest in a white knuckle grip.

Unable to hold back his tears the young Marine completely broke down. His forehead rested on the Sergeants kevlar as his tears intermingled with the dried spotches chest of blood, dying it in a reddish color.

As the seconds passed by he became more aware of the dizziness that had taken over his consciousness. Nausea filled his body.

Unable to hold himself back he leaned away from the Sergeants body and vomited up his stomach contents onto the ground. After what seemed like an eternity his strength left him completely as his face dropped on to the puddle of his own vomit.

He felt so tired.

'Maybe….maybe I should just go to sleep.' PFC Allster thought to himself, his eyes fluttering closed. Vaguely he was aware of the concerned looking face of the silver haired female looming over him as he passed out.

* * *

Honestly Emilia didn't know what to think about the chaos around her.

She had expected the worst when Ram had reported that barrier holding back the Mabeasts had been broken. It was only after did she and the twin maids rush down to the village.

They had expected many things, which was either they got lucky and fixed the issue before the Mabeasts could attack or the worse case scenario where the village was overrun by said beasts. Which in that case they would have had to push back the Mabeasts before fixing the barrier.

It also didn't help that the fourth candidate had just been picked several days prior, leaving just one more candidate before the "competition" could begin. And due to it, she had been overwhelmed with various paperwork varying from simple letters to straight marriage proposals.

Roswaal had also just left for the capital just the other day too, leaving her and the maid twins in charge of the mansion and the surrounding area.

All in all this came at the worst of times but she couldn't simply abandon the villagers to their fate.

She had called Puck out in advance ready to defend anyone in case the situation rose.

As they had approached the village they heard the loud booms in the air, rather it was more accurate to say it sounded more like a sharp crack than anything else.

The foreign sounds scared her, she had never heard anything like it and as they approached the village, the sounds of cracks grew into roaring thunder.

However suddenly the thunders grew quiet and she began fearing for the worst.

What she actually found couldn't be farther from what she had imagined. The village was intact with most of the inhabitants being in the relative safety of their homes. Only a small handful were still out, they had been carrying two bloodied individuals before they turned tail and ran away. Which left a lone elderly man still trying to drag the injured away.

Everything had happened so suddenly.

She heard a terrifying roar. One that genuinely startled her. It scared her to think what kind of man could make such a sound.

A man garbed in tan clothing, practically covered in blood and a chunk of his left arm bitten off, tore into the pack that was rushing for the trio of vulnerable men.

She along with the maids saw in horror and awe as they witnessed a form of savagery unknown to them before then.

He used everything he had, his body, his knife even his _helmet_ of all things to protect the two injured that were clothed similarly to him.

She could see his pain, agony and exhaustion but he kept going. Determined to protect and kill whatever threat he saw.

They were shocked out of their trance when the thunder roared once more.

The small black _thing_ in his hand had been responsible and it had them flinching and covering their ears. Despite it she could see the Mabeasts starting to retreat and taking the advantage she had told Ram and Rem to take care of the rest while she took care of the injured.

She ran towards the group of men, the only one not bloody being the old man. Getting closer to them she could see that the previously enraged man had hunched over one of the downed men. She saw the white knuckle grip and the shaking of his shoulders as he held onto the deceased.

Both men laying on the ground had passed away, most likely from the injuries that littered their bodies. From the uniformity of the three, it was safe to assume they were part of some group or faction. Perhaps militant in nature but that didn't matter much for the half elf.

Seeing the almost demonic man in such sorrow was painful. They must have had a close relationship, one of kinship and brotherhood. Something she had only read in novels, never experienced in her life.

She scrambled to him when he vomited and began losing consciousness while laying there fade first in his own vomit.

Applying whatever aid she could administer, she had to internally wince at the low ringing in her ears. Her eyes trailed down to the black contraption he had put on his body. It was a small thing not much bigger than her hands yet something so small created such a thunderous sound.

Yet another thing about this man that frightened her but nonetheless she continued her healing of said mystery man.

Minutes passed, how long precisely she didn't know but it was long enough for Ram and Rem to drive off the Mabeasts and repair the barrier. Looking around she could see that slowly the villagers were starting to come out of their homes.

She smiled at the relieved expressions on their faces. Even though they would still keep her at arms length due to her half elf heritage and silver hair, it didn't particularly matter to her. She was just happy to have helped prevent what could have been a disaster.

Although if anything she had to be thanking the mystery man currently laying on the ground. He was the one who had done most of the work, whether he meant to or was simply a byproduct of him trying to protect his comrades she didn't know but was nonetheless grateful.

"I wonder where he's from?" Puck mumbled to himself, getting Emilia's attention.

Emilia frowned at the question. "I don't know but we can ask him once he's awake."

'These are some pretty awful injuries he has though.' She thought to herself. 'His ankles are swollen, he has a bunch of small cuts all over him. The worse injury is the hole on his abdomen, he managed to stem the bleeding but internally the area around the wound is completely destroyed. That's not counting the chunk of flesh that was bitten off by one of the Mabeasts.'

All in all things looked grim for the man even with her healing. He had lost a lot of blood after all.

'How he managed to keep fighting despite his injuries is amazing.' She glanced over at the two deceased bodies. 'Probably because he was fighting to protect his friends….I'm willing to bet they had a close relationship.' She thought with a small amount of envy.

'I always wanted someone like that. Someone that I know would be at my side no matter what.' Her solemn thoughts seemed to reach Puck, who simply rested on her shoulder.

Shaking the thoughts away she sighed as she finished the process of healing. She would have to continue to patch up any remnants of internal damage but for now her patient was out of immediate danger. Now the only problem was to fix the curse that was no doubt placed on him when he was bitten.

Beatrice would hopefully take care of that. Hopefully. She was positive if she were the one to ask then there wouldn't be too much of an issue. Although you really didn't know what the child-like being was thinking.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard yelling in the background.

"How could you leave those men behind like that?! Even the old gramps didn't just run away like that!" Emilia turned to face a growing crowd surrounding a middle aged woman holding her child.

The woman looked furious, causing some of the men she was yelling at to flinch.

One of the taller men, took offense to that however. "The two guys were dead anyways! Why should we risk our lives for some strangers?! For all we know they may have been the cause to all this! Unless...it's that witches doing then I honestly wouldn't be surprised."

Still the woman didn't back down. "Even so look at that man!" She pointed at Emilia or more accurately the unconscious man. "He was covered in blood carrying those two all by himself! He looked exhausted, probably was from running away from the Mabeasts. Whether he was responsible or not doesn't matter, he trusted you and your little entourage to get these two men to safety!"

Before things could escalate Emilia broke the stalemate.

"U-umm sorry to interrupt but could someone help me carry the three men over here onto a cart? I'd like to give the deceased a proper burial and continue treating the injured back at the mansion…" She internally winced as her voice came out more hesitant and meek than she had hoped for.

Several moments passed and her expression started to fall. It didn't surprise her that none of them would help.

"I'll help." To her surprise the same women that had been scolding the men stepped forward. "Come on, go back to daddy. I have to help the lady over there." She gently prodded her child away.

To Emilia's further surprise a few more stepped out, one of which was the same old man from before.

"I….um...thank you." She mumbled out, taken aback. She hadn't expected the kind of response she had gotten though it was probably only because of the unconscious man at her feet.

Everything else passed by in a relative blur. They had loaded the three men onto a wagon with no particular issues and afterwards, she along with Ram and Rem made their way back to the mansion.

The ride was made in silence, each keeping their thoughts to themselves. In one shape or another their thoughts converged on the three mysterious men.

Their uniforms were unfamiliar to them, meaning the trio was most likely from another country. Either that or were a small group within Lugnica.

Their weapons were strange too, most likely some sort of magical weapon. It would explain the ear splitting noises they made. The only relative familiarity were their knives, the only weapon they could identify properly.

Within her spot beside the unconscious man, Ram took the chance of peace to scrutinize the black weapon. Gingerly she traced a finger along it's charcoal length, taking note of the small amount of heat she could feel.

'Perhaps a fire based weapon.' She silently mused to herself. It would explain the heat emanating from the weapon.

However there was a small issue with it being a fire based weapon. There was no signs of fire being used. If anything the corpses of the Mabeasts were severely mangled rather than showing signs of being set on fire.

'No, it might be better to say it's a projectile weapon instead. If it used a form of combustion to propel a projectile then it would explain the heat.' Whether it was a conventional weapon or a magically enhanced however one remained to be seen.

* * *

When he woke up, there were many things he was expecting. Feeling the soft cushions of a very comfortable bed however was not one of them, though it was a luxury he was willing to exploit.

For a while he merely stared up at the foreign ceiling, thinking about the previous events that had led up to this point.

He was in a firefight in Fallujah, Iraq before coming to this place...wherever this place was. The strangest thing though was he didn't know how he got here, one minute he was in Iraq and one blinding moment later he was here. Yet in and another land where people didn't speak English and this time he didn't have some half breed translator with him.

His next thoughts trailed off into the demonic looking wolves he had fought in the woods. In his entire life he had never seen something quite like that. He was aware of the various myths that floated around the Internet but up until this point that was just that, a myth.

Then there were the fuckers who had abandoned the wounded.

Briefly his anger flared before a solemn thought crossed his mind. 'They're dead...'

That's right, somewhere along the fighting and dragging their bodies through the woods, the two men had died after succumbing to their wounds. In a sense it was a miracle that he himself was alive at all considering his stomach was pretty much destroyed by the bullet that passed through him along with the chunk that was bitten off of his left arm.

If memory served him correctly then he had passed out in a pool of his own vomit. That must have been fun to clean up for whatever poor soul was picked to do so.

Idly he wondered who had taken him in. 'Probably that silver haired girl' He took an appreciative look around his room. It looked like something rich people lived in. 'Ayyy did I get picked up by some rich girl or something? This shits legit.'

He was taken out of his thoughts by the door opening. Snapping his eyes to the entrance he found the two girls in maid outfits that looked practically identical, with the exception of their vibrant hair colors.

'Wonder how they made the pink and blue hair work? Most of those weeaboo fucks look like garbage in their little outfits.' He thought to himself as took a glance at the maids.

The pink one simply bowed in his presence. _"It seems like our guest has awoken. My name is Ram and this is Rem, we are the maids of this mansion. How are you feeling sir?"_

'Ah fuck me, here we go again.' He thought to himself. 'Oh well, fuck you whatever divine fucker is looking at me, I got real good at playing charades.'

"Yeah so, listen babe I can't understand the hell you're saying and neither can you understand me so how bout you strip and hop on?" Normally he wouldn't say something so crass but they didn't know what he was saying. At least he hoped so.

Their titling of their heads in confusion solidified his suspicions. He did however let his moment of immaturity pass, getting into a more serious demeanor.

Sighing he got out of the covers and stood up, taking notice of his clean desert utilities and his dog tags. He picked his deserts up he and pulled up it against his body.

"Can I see the guys that had this on? You know they're…" He paused in hesitation before making a slitting motion with his finger across his neck.

For a moment the girls looked at him with a confused expression before the blue haired one whispered something into the pink haired one. Something seemed to click with them afterwards as they both nodded and ushered him to follow them.

Making sure to quickly change back into his deserts he noticed that even his boots and socks had been cleaned, although the wear and tear of a Marine stomping around in them was still present. Sighing he put his dog tags underneath his deserts and made his way out of his room.

Stepping outside of his room he had to hold in an urge to whistle as he took a glance at the interior. He was definitely in rich people neighborhood. Which was great or complete shit, depending on how things went.

He turned his attention to the blue hair maid in front of him, noticing the red haired one was gone.

" _Please follow me sir."_ With that she began walking at a sedate pace.

Falling in behind her Allster absently remembered not seeing his gear or weapons inside his room. Mentally slapping himself in the head for the amateur mistake he let out a sigh.

Wherever he was, he was all by himself. No one to rely on to watch his back. Personally he didn't even know what to do with the bodies of the dead Marines. Giving them a proper burial came to mind, they deserved that much at the very least.

'It's funny how that comes from the guy who couldn't even save them.' He thought in bitterness. He wasn't too hurt by their deaths, he barely knew them. Only by rank and name did he recognize those two. Even so they were Marines, he trusted them to watch his back and they trusted him to do the same. Such was the strength of camaraderie between Marines, it didn't matter if you were from the West Coast or East Coast, a Marine was a Marine.

Yet he had failed when it mattered most.

'If I hadn't stopped for fucking breaks then they would've made it….' He should've kept going, if he did then maybe those wolves wouldn't have attacked. He was probably within their territory, making them more aggressive.

He bit the inside of his cheeks as frustration mounted. 'Some fuckin Marine I am. Can't do a damn thing right you fuckin boot.'

Hell with his performance even POGs would laugh at his pathetic ass.

" _Sir? We've arrived. Your...friends are through his door."_ He was snapped out his thoughts by the foreign voice of the small blue haired girl.

He pointed at the door. "Through here?" Receiving a nod he placed his hand on the doorknob but for some reason his hand failed to open the door.

He closed his eyes and turned his head away from the door. "...Fuck." He whispered. His grip tightened on the know and with a steadying breath opened the door.

When the door opened he was treated to a peaceful sight. One that made holding himself back all the more difficult.

The two Marines were placed beside each other on a large bed on top of the covers. Instead of their desert utilities they had the sleeping garbes that the maids had no doubt put on. Their uniforms placed neatly on a stand beside the bed.

Their gear and weapons, including his were placed on a corner of the room, almost out of sight. Their covers and kevlar helmets were neatly placed on the ground in front of the gear. All in all it was a serene sight, almost as if the Marines were merely sleeping,

Slowly walking his way to the bed, he took notice of the dog tags that were placed on top of the folded utilities. With a hesitant hand he reached over and grasped both dog tags with his right hand. The dog tags were cool to the touch and practically weighed nothing yet holding another Marine's dog tags in his hands felt so _wrong._

He couldn't help a bitter chuckle. "So this is what holding another Marines dog tags feels like." Clenching the metal dog tags tightly he rolled them up and put them in his pockets.

Looking on at the Marines he noticed something amiss however. Their injuries were gone, as if they never happened. Especially Sergeant Howard whose leg was hanging on by a thread. That very same leg was….normal. Like a bullet hadn't even touched it.

His widened as he held his belly. "What hell, where are my wounds?" He whispered out, seeing his left arm was also completely fine.

There was no way he healed over night and the chances of him being unconscious for such a length that his wounds healed without even a scar was damn near impossible.

He snapped his attention to the single maid who was in the same room with him. Her expression was hard to read, though he could see a feel a small amount of empathy emanating from her.

His body tensed up. The mysterious way he arrived here, the demonic wolves, foreign people and wounds healing without even a scar. Nothing added up.

He found himself forgetting his dead comrades for glaring at the small maid. "Hey girl….the fuck am I doing here?" He growled out, noticing her tensing up not in fright but in anticipation.

'That's right this blue bitch was throwing around a spiked metal ball. She's a combative? Or is she friendly?' He thought while slowly edging towards his weapon.

He didn't see an outline of any weapon on her nor did he see one on her person. When he got within a couple feet from his weapon he suddenly found himself staring at an armed individual. The very same spiked death ball he saw earlier. One that quite literally appeared out of thin air with a rattle of metal.

Her entire demeanor changed too, gone was the expressionless look. What replaced was a glare that dared him to do anything she deemed a hostile action.

"Bitch." He simply mumbled, backing off. Turning around he made his way around the bed when he gave her the middle finger. In hindsight it was probably a bad idea but at the time it was funny to see the surprised and even offended expression on the small girl.

'I guess the fuck you finger is the same no matter where you are.' He thought with no small amount of amusement.

His moment of fun however was ruined he saw the peaceful expression of the Sergeant. "Damn it, Sergeant why couldn't you be a badass and live through that shit like a motherfucker? Leaving a brother out dry like this, fuck you man. Fuck you man...I ain't a boot anymore you know? I was gonna rub that in front of everyone's face."

He let out a defeated sigh. "...But fuck me right."

Most would think that was a question but a Marine knew otherwise. For a Marine most likely heard his Drill Instructor say something similar when their platoon screwed up during recruit training. Which was a lot.

" _So...3080. Fuck me right."_

" _No, sir!"_

" _No, no, no 3080, that isn't a fucking question. Fuck me right."_

" _...Aye Sir!"_

" _Good shit, now I'm gonna pop your little hearts. Climb 'til you die fuckers."_

" _Aye Sir!"_

The memory of his training platoon popped into mind for some reason. Those were simpler times, where becoming a Marine seemed like the only thing mattered. What came after didn't register for most them, including him. It was only during SOI did he realize he was going off to fight in the Middle East.

He was taken out of his thoughts when the door opened. Looking up he found the same blue haired maid holding the door open for him, silently ushering him to get out.

Clicking his tongue in annoyance he ambled over to the girl without a verbal response.

Without a word the maid closed the door behind him and began walking down the hallway.

"What the fuck you want from me?" He growled out. The maid didn't even give him a response, only continuing to walk to wherever she was taking him.

After a couple twists and turns she stopped at a door. Opening it for him she bowed slightly. _"Emilia-sama is waiting for you, please go inside."_

Now he didn't know much Japanese but he recognized the suffixes to a decent extent. "Bitch did you just say-"

" _Please go inside sir."_

Opening his mouth he stared at the girl before making his way inside.

The first thing he saw was a recognizable face, the silver haired girl standing in front of a desk. Which had paperwork strewn about on top of it.

'Ah shit, is this girl the top dog around here?' He thought to himself in surprise and dread for the upcoming talks. Well attempt at talks at least. Talking was hard when no one could communicate properly.

"God this just gets better and better." He groaned out.


	3. Fuck Me Right!

A/N: This chapter is so late I know but life got in the way. So yeah considering that and the fact that this chapter fought me like a mule means that this chapter is shorter than I wanted to be. Only 6k in length but hopefully the next will be better.

Aight enough with my rambling on with the SHOW!

* * *

He knew from the get-go that the meeting would be a clusterfuck of magnificent proportions. Quite frankly this went beyond amusing into the realm of annoyance during the past hour or so. Despite the language barrier however they had managed to glean some information out of each other, mainly through some hand gestures and finger pointing.

He knew that the girl with the silver hair was Emilia who was a god damned magician of all things. Not the social rejects who pulled rabbits out of hats but a genuine magician who could summon a floating cat, the very same one he had seen before but didn't believe seeing. Puck was his name. She was also the one to heal him of his injuries, which was nice.

The maid twins were a tad confusing, mainly because they looked so similar but he got the gist of things. Ram was red. Rem was blue. Simple.

He had tried to explain some things. Like how to get home, him being a Marine and a handful of other stuff but with the language barrier it was damn near impossible to get his points across.

All they knew were his name, the two dead Marines names and that was pretty much it. Although he could see that they knew he was not from here. The language barrier being the most predominant evidence.

Wherever he was, was not his world. His world had technology and most certainly not magic. This world was the opposite apparently, with magic being the norm and technology being somewhere in the medieval era.

He let out a tired sigh and for a while no one said anything, letting each other collect their thoughts.

'Alright I'm in some fantasy land that has magic and whatnot which defies all common sense. Jesus I don't even know how I got here and for some reason everyone speaks fucking Japanese.' He craned his neck backwards and stared at the ceiling. 'Of course I'm the unlucky bitch who gets fucked. Fuck my life.'

Taking in a deep breath he prioritized what he wanted to achieve from the meeting. Namely the burial of the dead and his weapons being returned to him. Although the latter would be hard to achieve especially with the way the blue haired one, Rem was staring holes into the back of his head.

"So….uh." He started off getting Emilia's attention. "Can we do something about…" He pointed to his desert utilities and made a slitting motion across his neck. Seemed like the easiest way to describe the dead Marines to them.

Emilia's eyes lit up in recognition, understanding the new topic of discussion. _"Yes? Do you want to...um hold a funeral them?"_ She made lowering motion with her hands, her voice showing a small amount of discomfort. Seeing his confused expression she made a small motion of pretending to dig the ground with her arms.

He nodded at seeing that. 'I guess we really have to resort to charades until I can learn the damn language.' He dreaded at the notion of having to learn a whole other language but if he wanted to get anywhere in this world then he'd have to start adapting fast.

'It would've been easier if they had survived…' He shook his head at the errant thought but in the back of his mind the deaths of the two Marines still lingered.

Sighing he switched topics, hoping to forget about the Marines if only temporarily. "So my weapons….can I have them back?" He made some gestures with his hands, making them so it looked like he was holding his rifle.

Emilia merely looked confused.

"You know…" He trailed off, feeling some frustration creep in. "...Fuck ummm…" Coming up with nothing he ran a hand through his short hair. After a moment he let out a sigh before standing up.

"Come on follow me." He gestured her to follow him before brushing past the maid twins, much to their displeasure.

He didn't bother looking back, hearing the hurried sounds of Emilia getting out of her chair. Opening the door he turned backtracked to the room the two deceased Marines resided in.

Reaching the room he reached out to open the door but for the briefest of moments his hands hesitated at turning the knob. For the second time that day the young Marine braced himself before opening the door again.

'God I need to stop being such a vagina.' He thought sourly. Walking in he quickly turned his attention to their equipment laid out in the corner, opting to try and ignore the dead Marines.

He pointed at his weapon. "That. Can I have it back?" It's not like he was going to go on a killing rampage.

Emilia stayed silent, mulling over the question.

Eventually Puck landed on her shoulder and whispered his suggestion to her. "Lia, I don't think it's a good idea to give him his weapon back. We still don't know if he's trustworthy or not."

Looking back the maid twins she found they held an impassive expression though she could tell they held similar sentiments with the spirit. None of them trusted the strange foreign man.

Personally she didn't either but she could tell he wasn't a bad person. If anything she admired his willingness to stand and fight for his comrades despite his injuries. A lesser man would most certainly have turned and ran away, like the villagers had. She admired and even on a small level envied the relationship the trio must have had and perhaps it was because of this that she wanted to trust him. That she wanted to judge him based on his positives and not his negatives.

Even so however giving him his weapon was an uncomfortable thought. She saw what he could do with his bare hands and knife and that small black contraption he had used once. She simply deemed him too dangerous with his primary weapon.

However she was willing to give him some leeway especially due to his unfortunate circumstances.

Alone with your comrades dead in some foreign land and not being able to speak the language must be a terrifying endeavour.

It was why she was willing to give him his knife. As a form of reassurance for him and her. He knew he had personal defense weapon but she knew that she along with the maid twins would be able to fight back should the need arise.

'Although I hope that it doesn't get to that point.' Emilia thought hopefully.

Coming to her decision she shook her head at the question. Almost immediately she could see a frown on his face although he didn't seem too terribly upset. He probably came to a similar conclusion on his own.

"However I am allowing you to keep your knife upon you." She said while picking up the sheathed knife from on top of the gear. Handing him his knife she took a couple step back from him, seeing that he was almost a full head taller than her.

She saw him lightly inspecting the sheathed knife in his hands.

Drawing the blade he inspected the sharp edge of his Ka-Bar. As suspected it had been cleaned much like everything else, although he didn't know how to feel about some strangers handling his rifle. Especially considering these people didn't have a clue about firearm safety and the assembly and disassembly of the rifle and the maintenance that went into it.

'I guess this is good enough. Kind of.' He groaned to himself. He really would've preferred having his rifle on him. 'I mean it's not like they tried to hide the damn things so why the fuck not?'

Sighing he sheathed the blade and placed it in his cargo pockets. It'd do for now. Later he'd place somewhere easier to reach.

As he pulled his hands out of his cargo pockets a small jingle of metal could be heard underneath the rustle of clothes. He ignored the curious look he received from Emilia, she didn't need to know about the dog tags that were in his pockets.

Before they left however he made one final check of their gear, making sure at least the major equipment were still there.

Seeing the two pairs of boots he kneeled down to inspect them and sighed in relief as he found the second pair of dog tags underneath the laces of their boots.

It was a way for Marines to identify each other in case a Marines torso was missing or blown to pieces. That way if the boot survived then they had a way of identifying who was KIA and who wasn't. A morbid way of thinking and doing things for sure but it was effective. Besides they were Marine infantry, they wouldn't have had it any other way and Marine infantry are the best and worst the Marine Corps had to offer. Best in the fact they were damn efficient at killing and worst in that they were one of the most aggressive, drunk bastards the United States and the Marine Corps had to offer.

'I swear to Buddha I'm gonna make a lat move after this bullshit. Maybe go comms or some other job.' After a moment however he shot the thought down. 'Nah I ain't no POG.'

Not that there was anything wrong with POGs but during his short time in the Marine Corps he had plenty of POGs who thought they did 'infantry shit.' Which was completely asinine when you think POG stands for Persons/Personnel Other than Grunt. As in, you ain't a grunt unless you're a grunt.

As he stood up he found his eyes falling on a particular item. Snorting in amusement he picked up an IPhone 6 Plus from Sergeant Howards vest. He raised an eyebrow when he found a solar powered battery charger and a pair of earphones.

"Sweet Jesus Sergeant you were packing some fancy shit. Didn't tell me you could bring luxury items like this outside the wire." He whispered to himself. Swiping his finger across the screen he hit jackpot.

The good Sergeant had forgone any security on his lock screen.

'Must have been confident on not losing something like this.' It was an item that would be a boon for sure. Definitely help even if there was no Internet here.

Pocketing the smartphone he fell in behind Emilia and followed her back to her office, ignoring the suspicious looks the maid twins gave him.

As they sat back down they fell into a comforting silence, one neither was willing to break for the moment.

Looking down at his arms PFC Allster sighed as he found the sleeves of his deserts rolled down. He'd prefer to roll them up right now but decided on waiting until he had some privacy.

"You know…." He started off, getting Emilia's and the maid twins attention. "I think we're done for the moment. I think we both need a good minute away from each other to think about our situation here." Of course he followed his speech with a flurry of hand motions. Mostly indicating of wanting some sleep. Best way to explain shit without giving each other further headaches.

She merely smiled and nodded, understanding the gesture. _"Yes, you've been through a lot. I'm sure you're still exhausted. Please make yourself at home Allster-san, you deserve that much."_ Standing up she gave him a court bow, prompting him to do the same.

She gestured to Rem. _"Rem will escort you to your bedroom. I'll send her back up when dinner is ready."_

Glancing back at the blue haired maid he let out a sigh. 'I have no clue what she just said but I understand the word Rem. Which means….something, fuck it I'll figure it eventually.' In the meantime however he just wanted some time alone and away from well everyone.

With a curt nod he turned around and let the smaller girl take the lead.

The walk was done in silence, neither particularly wanting to say anything or to try to say anything without the other party not understanding. Which suited the young PFC just fine, another round of charades wasn't what he had in mind.

Stopping a little ways from the diminutive maid he let her open the door for him before brushing past her with a short nod in thanks.

Entering his room he walked over to the bed and let himself lay down on it haphazardly, not minding the door shutting closed. For a while he simply laid there going over the large amount of information once again.

From what he could gather, going back home seemed damn near impossible. Recreating an event was hard when you didn't know what event you had recreate in the first place.

The question of 'how' and 'why' lingered in his mind. How was he brought here and why was he brought here? Those were the questions of the day and it seemed like an answer was something he'd rather not hear.

Briefly he thought of the two dead Marines before he had physically shake himself away from the thoughts. It wouldn't be healthy to keep dwelling on something he couldn't have prevented. The thing was though, he could've prevented their deaths.

The two Marines had probably died from blood loss, if he had been a little bit faster and not taken breaks then he was sure he could've made it to the town.

He gritted his teeth. 'There I go thinking about them again…' He let out a sigh before sitting up.

"I've got no idea what's happening but I might as well look good as fuck for when shit pops off." He muttered to himself, slowly taking off his desert utilities. Getting up from the bed he placed the utilities on the ground before sitting down on the floor.

With well practiced hands he began rolling his sleeves, making sure they would look nice when he put them back on. It was a relaxing and methodical process, one he had done countless times.

For almost an hour he simply took the time to carefully roll the sleeves, making sure they looked nice. He could've done it faster but simply chose to take his time. He wasn't under any rush to finish them as fast as possible.

When he finished rolling the sleeves up he stood up on slightly stiff legs and put his deserts back on. Getting some of the tight spots to loosen up he walked in front of a large mirror that was on the wall.

Seeing himself in the mirror he found himself staring at a surprising visage.

His cheeks were slightly sunken in. His eyes had a slight redness to it and he wasn't clean shaven anymore with a stubble starting to grow.

"I look like shit." He commented seeing himself for the first time since he came here. It made him wonder how he looked to the others. Probably nothing glamorous either but then again he didn't expect anything less.

Letting out a sigh he walked away from the mirror before laying back down on the very comfortable bed. Letting his legs dangle off the edge, he found himself falling asleep. At this point he didn't bother fighting the exhaustion, if anything he welcomed it.

In the back of his mind he wondered how his family was doing. They must have gotten word of his disappearance by now, most likely MIA along with the Lance Corporal and the Sergeant.

"I miss you Ma and Pa." The Texan whispered to himself before falling into oblivion of unconsciousness.

* * *

"Welcome home Jayce!" He was snapped awake by an all too familiar voice, one he hadn't heard in months and longed to hear again.

Looking down he found that he was in his dress blues, the iconic uniform recognized by practically everyone that he was a Marine. In front of him was his house, one that he grew up in. Around him was the neighborhood he made so many memories in.

He heard the claps and cheering of some of his neighbors.

He was welcomed home…

Like he survived that hell in the Middle East.

Like he wasn't some coward who couldn't even save a couple Marines.

Like a _fucking_ hero.

And he welcomed it.

He smiled, one that threatened to split his face and hugged the woman who had raised him.

"I'm back Ma…"

* * *

His eyes snapped open revealing the same ceiling he had last seen before falling asleep.

Wiping away the streaks of tears he sat up on the bed getting his bearing once again. It was the same room with everything in the exact same place.

He wasn't home.

It was a all a dream, one that seemed so far away.

"God damn it.." He muttered, holding back another round of tears. For several moments he simply sat there silence before finally noticing an intruder of sorts in his room.

Off in the corner stood the blue haired maid, Rem. Without a word she simply stood there, for how long he didn't know but he assumed she saw everything.

For a moment the two locked eyes. Blue eyes looking into brown stained in redness.

Allster looked away and sighed before standing up.

"What is it?" He mumbled out.

" _Dinner is ready Allster-sama."_ She said, making eating motions with her hands.

Staring at her Allster let out another sigh before nodding and motioning for her to take the lead.

With a curt nod she turned and began leading to him to where he'd be eating.

He winced as he felt his knife flopping about in his cargo pocket. Reaching down he pulled the knife out and put it through his belt on the small of his back, wiggling it to make sure it was secure he walked a little faster trying to catch up.

It wasn't long before the reached the dining area.

He couldn't help a low whistle at the large table and the assortment of food. "God damn that shit looks good."

Stepping aside Rem pulled out a seat for him, which was the farthest from Emilia. 'Protective bunch.' He thought to himself as he sat down.

He couldn't blame them for the caution.

To his surprise he saw a familiar tradition, one he saw often during his brief stay in Okinawa.

" _Itadakimasu."_ Emilia muttered.

'So they've got more than one thing similar with Japan.' He thought in realization before doing the same.

"Itadakimasu." His words seemed to surprise them. It would surprising he supposed, considering they previously thought he knew nothing of the language and customs.

With a small smirk in return he began to dig into the meal, prompting her to do the same.

As they ate in silence he could see some nervous and curious glances thrown his way by Emilia. For the most part he ignored the looks in favor for eating the food but suddenly and without warning a thought came to mind, the iPhone.

Reaching into his pockets he pulled out the white smartphone. Ignoring the strange and even tense looks he scrolled through the phone.

'Come on Sergeant, I know you were in Oki for a while. Give me something good here.' Finally after minute he found what he was looking for, a translation app. More precisely Google Translate.

Even luckier the good Sergeant had downloaded all the offline options, including Japanese. "Bingo."

He rapidly typed into the device before cracking a smile. Coughing into his hand he spoke with a heavily accented tone.

"Hello, my name is Jayce Allster and I am a United States Marine."

A look of complete surprise was etched on Emilia's face. _"H-How?"_

Accurately guessing at what she had said he typed on the device again. "Translation device." He simply said while showing her the phone.

She nodded her head in understanding as she looked on in amazement. She had never seen something like this in her life.

Finally! He had caught a lucky break. With this he would be able to communicate at least somewhat effectively with his hostess. It wasn't a permanent solution but it was a temporary one. It would useful until he could properly learn the language.

Looking at Rem and Ram, both of which had taken up positions behind Emilia he could make out the similar expressions of surprise, wonder and curiosity.

With a smirk he placed the phone down on the table and began digging into the food, unable to ignore his ever present hunger.

Throughout the meal he could tell Emilia wanted to ask more questions. She was most likely going to ask to have another meeting afterwards, it would make the most sense now that they could communicate. For now however she was willing to put that aside for enjoying the meal in silence which was fine by him.

It allowed him to collect his thoughts and make a game plan for what was ahead of him. First and foremost was making sure they were on the same page in regards to the funeral of the two Marines. After that came him living here for an extended time along with finding someone to teach him the language here.

After all that...well he supposed he'd have to start looking into a way back home. If that was possible at all. He'd get the answer he seeked eventually, whether or not it was an answer he was hoping for was another story altogether.

It wasn't long before he began to feel full. He never had a big stomach anyway and he never liked being too full. Things tended to suck if you were retarded full and then had to run around afterwards. It usually ended up with you puking your guts out while your buddies looked on in amusement while you suffered.

Besides he didn't trust the females here in good faith to not backstab him. If such a case rose then he'd prefer to be light on his feet.

Picking this as a good time to stop eating he placed his utensils back on the table. Looking up he found Emilia doing the same. 'I hope she's not stopping just because I am.' He thought to himself, using a napkin to clean his mouth.

Well if she was then it wasn't as if he was going to stop her. She seemed mature enough to make her own decisions without him questioning her or trying to baby her.

She coughed into her hand getting his attention. _"Shall we continue our meeting in my studies?"_

He sighed as he heard the foreign language. Reaching for the IPhone he opened the translation app once again. He held the phone up and towards the silver haired girl.

She merely looked at the device in confusion. At his prompting she repeated herself. _"Shall we continue our meeting in my studies?"_

Nodding in satisfaction he pulled the phone away from her and looked at the screen. Seeing the translation he frowned at the result. Despite its usefulness the complex aspects of converting Japanese to English gave it some trouble. As evidenced by the hilarious grammatical errors but it served its purpose.

He nodded at her prompting her to smile lightly before standing up. Saying something to the maids she walked around the table and gestured him to follow her.

As he fell in behind her he took notice of Ram following in behind them. Most likely for security.

'You think I'm gonna do some shit now? The fuck do I look like?' He growled in his mind. Oh he understood why he needed all the security but it didn't mean he liked it. Despite his thoughts he didn't bother letting his displeasure on his face, doing so would only make him more untrustworthy to them.

He stared ahead practically emotionless as they approached the room. He internally groaned as he saw Emilia open the door and head inside.

'Ahhh great...here we go again.' He complained, already feeling a headache coming on. Well at least he had some music to listen to afterwards. Speaking of which. 'I wonder what kind of music the Sergeant listened to?'

* * *

Groaning in exhaustion he let himself fall backwards on the bed. Physically he was fine, just the mental aspects of trying to communicate through god damned Google Translate proved to be a pain in the ass.

Sure the device helped but it had its limits. There were still some things he was curious about. Such as, how he got here and why he was sent here. Things such as magic that can send a person to an entirely different world was translated poorly and only confused everyone more than necessary.

Even so, he managed to help ease the uneasy mind of Emilia. She knew he was friendly and that he wanted to have someone to teach him the language. That and to get back home, though neither of them knew how.

The maids were a different story however, they were still uneasy at his presence. He was still a ticking time bomb in their eyes. Not that particularly cared, as long as he was taught the language and the bodies of the two Marines were treated with respect then he was for the most part fine.

He frowned as his thought lingered on the Marines. The funeral would be in three days time and they would be buried in the large backyard of the mansion.

With a sigh he dug into his pockets and pulled out the dog tags of his deceased comrades. Silently he read the information, making sure to memorize the religious beliefs the two Marines had on their dog tags.

"Lance Corporal Luis, Jewish and Sergeant Howard, Catholic." He murmured making sure to reread and ingrain the information into his memory.

With another sigh he put the dog tags away. He'd have to tell Emilia of the proper customs of burying the Marines although he himself only had a vague idea.

'That's for another day, right now I just want to sleep.' But sleep wouldn't come, not likely. Not after everything that's happened so far.

He was still going to try though. Hopefully if he just closed his eyes for long enough then he'd naturally fall asleep. Before that however he'd have to go take a shower or take a bath considering the time period.

Either way Emilia said she'd send someone up when the bath was ready for him. Either way, all this pampering was starting to feel weird. It wasn't as if he hated it but he was used to well….not being pampered. The Marine Corps definitely didn't endorse such a thing.

'Might as well take advantage of it while it lasts.' He had no thoughts that they'd let him stay here indefinitely although he had to wonder what would happen to the bodies of the Marines whenever he did leave. Hopefully they wouldn't be treated like trash but he had a feeling they'd be fine. Emilia didn't seem like the type to desecrate a dead body.

Whatever the case was he chose to ignore the thought in favor for some peace. Grunting in slight annoyance he pulled out Sergeant Howards phone along with its earphone. 'I guess these are technically mine now, I highly doubt he needs these anyway.' He thought to himself as he scrolled through the phone.

Finding the only music app, Google Play Music, he began to look through the libraries of downloaded songs. "Aren't you the righteous one? Actually paying for your music…" He mumbled in amusement.

There was a total of 256 songs, all of them bought and downloaded for offline use.

Absent-mindedly he shuffled through the playlist and plugged in the earphones. 'Now that I think about it, I think this was his third deployment to Iraq.' The Sergeant had been one of the more serious members of the platoon. The man left him alone for the most part, leaving the "extracurricular" activities to the others.

As a "boot" he was the most junior member of the platoon. Meaning his welcoming party consisted of getting shit on by practically everyone, aka he was hazed like a motherfucker.

Officially the Marine Corps did not endorse hazing, calling it unprofessional and unbecoming of Marines. Well as he found out, grunts didn't give a damn. Hazing was something of a tradition and the Marines stuck with tradition like sand fleas to flesh. Which meant it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Although he had give the parents props, them crying had made some changes in the Marine Corps, mostly in boot camp. Such as, allowing a recruit 20 minutes to eat and removing the brown towels and replacing them with fucking mops.

Although a good bit of those changes hadn't stuck for long it still proved that if enough people whined then something changed.

He was a firm believer that weakness didn't belong in the Corps. Even if his actions and thoughts proved hypocritical in the midst of combat. At least he didn't commit suicide over being "hazed" in boot camp. If you couldn't take even boot camp then the military was the wrong profession for you, just don't be a coward and commit suicide and ruin it for everyone else. A cruel thought yes but he didn't give a damn.

He wasn't a nice person nor did pretend to be one.

Although he found it kind of funny that the Muslim kid was thrown in a dryer. You had to fuck up on a monumental level for a drill instructor to tell you to jump in a dryer.

He smirked at the thought. 'Hell I'd like to be thrown in a dryer, hell of a story to tell.'

A normal person doesn't join the Marines, even less for Marine Infantry. He thought back to one of his many memorable moments during boot camp.

" _Any of you fuckers an 03 contract, fucking Infantry?"_

 _He and a few other raised their hands._

" _God damn, half you motherfuckers look like they belong in an insane asylum and the other half look bloodthirsty. I like it, yall getting some special treatment." His drill instructor smirked and they realized what their special treatment was. "Fucking strip and get in the pit."_

The stray memory of boot camp had him chuckling. At the time he was pissed off, tired and ready to get off the damn island but now it was a memory he treasured. An experience only a few could claim to have experienced.

Letting the nostalgia wash over him he let himself get drowned in the heavy beats of hard rock that the good Sergeant seemed to enjoy. Closing his eyes he felt the world sink away and a strange calm come over him.

The music, although not his favorite genre, was a piece of home. A luxury commodity for sure, one he'd take care of for the days to come.

He wasn't sure how long he had stayed that way, earphones plugged in and ignoring the world around him. He didn't even realize that Rem had walked in, unable to hear her over the music blaring in his ears.

Frowning Rem marched closer to the man, tensed as she waited for some kind of attack. When she got closer she could hear something emanating from the strange white cords that ran into his ears. Cautiously she tapped him on his legs.

"Wha-?!" With a startled cry he was jerked back into reality. Rapidly blinking he found he was staring at an impassive looking Rem.

"Umm... what's up girl?"

Undaunted by the annoyed glared sent her way Rem merely sighed internally. He was starting to be more trouble than he was worth. Sure he was interesting in that he was a completely foreign man but the problem was, he was…..too foreign.

'Emilia-sama is too kind for own good. This man is too dangerous to be the same building as her.' Personally she had entertained the thought of him being some sort of spy. It seemed plausible, it's not like they were on the borders of the surrounding countries. There was no way he would've made into the country and then make his way here without speaking the language.

It seemed especially suspicious when you think the fourth candidate had just been picked, leaving only one more before the race to the throne began. It would be a prime time for the other camps to begin committing acts of espionage against each other.

However a group such as this, with these kinds of weapons would be highly noticeable. Word of mouth spread often spread like wildfire, yet this group of three managed to remain undetected.

Nothing about him added up, his weapons, his name or his affiliation. Everything about him was too much of an oddity.

Yet Emilia-sama seemed keen on having him stay and she had been warned multiple times by both her sister and her master not to do anything rash. So for now she'd obey their orders but the moment he showed hostile intent then she'd end it right there. Regardless of the repercussions.

" _The bath is ready sir, please follow me."_

She frowned as he merely sat on his bed, tapping away at his contraption. Suddenly he thrust it out towards her. At his urging she repeated herself.

"The bath is ready sir, please follow me." Hardly giving him any more time she began walking out of his room. With a strange and startled cry the man stood up and ran to catch up to her.

Internally she let out a sigh. If anything the language barrier was proving to be a significant hurdle to overcome even with the strangers device. Most likely a mitia.

She could hear the foreign grumbling of the man behind her but simply chose to ignore it.

With a slew of low curses the young Marine glared at the small maid. Out of everyone here she was the most hostile one. She would always be at the ready in order to catch him doing something anything she deemed threatening. An admirable trait but it still pissed him off being treated like some ticking time bomb.

'I can't wait until I learn the language, I'm gonna make your face go red little blue.' He thought to himself already thinking up a whole slew of curses courtesy of the Marine Corps.

In the meantime however he'd behave and do what was told of him. Emilia was his best bet of survival.

He didn't know the language, the lay of the land or anything for that matter. She was his best bet so he'd act accordingly.

* * *

With a satisfying sigh the grunt let himself onto a chair.

He was back in his room and it was late at night. However sleep would probably elude him for a better part of the night, most likely because of his nap earlier.

Breathing out through his nose he took a glance at the ceiling of the room. Feeling the lone weight of his knife on him he frowned as he thought back to the gear he had left in the care of Emilia.

He'd seen Ram carrying his gear somewhere during his trip back from the bath. Where he didn't know but at this point he was starting get a bad feeling about not having his rifle on him. With the threat Ram posed he'd be practically defenseless if things came to blows. In fact he was sure in terms of combat capabilities he was the weakest here without his rifle. He had no magic or spiritual creature to call upon.

He had his training, his weapons and his instincts. And his instincts told him to leave as soon as possible. His mind told him otherwise, this was a good place to catch his bearings and learn the language. He needed the sanctuary of Emilia and her mansion.

For now at least.

Even so, it wasn't as if he was completely out of place. He had the translator with him so communication was possible now however bootleg and shoddy it may be.

Grunting he leaned back in the chair.

'Do I leave or do I stay?' He thought to himself. It seemed like an easy question but his instincts told him otherwise.

Perhaps he was just getting paranoid. Or perhaps Rem was more of a threat then he thought.

He eyed the door warily almost waiting for a crazed and combative Rem to burst through the doors. He shook his head, Emilia was in charge here as long as he had her in good graces then he'd be fine.

As long as he wasn't framed for bullshit or thought of to have hostile intent then he'd be alright.

He froze and his blood ran cold as he heard something very familiar. An echo of a gunshot.

Kicking away the chair he shot up and ran to the windows and opened them. He froze again as he heard multiple gunshots being fired, like automatic fire the cacophony of gunshots rose to an alarming level.

He turned around to the sound of his door being busted open. And he saw a pissed off Rem with her signature metal ball of death.

His body tensed for action, hand ready to unsheathe his knife.

Whatever deity up above must have hated him.

"So….fuck me right…."

* * *

So how'd I do sempai? Did I make you proud? lol kiddin, hope yall enjoyed the short chapter and until next time my fellow nerds.

REVIEW and worship the waifu that is Rem!


	4. What are the Odds!

A/N: The chapter is late, its kinda short and it wasn't on Christmas like I planned on. Fuck. Well all I can only blame laziness and life fucking me over. Cause you know working to pay off credit card debt is great. Plus after buying my friends and family gifts well I am more broke than shattered glass. Oh well all i can hope for is my writing muse to smack me in the face so I can crank out a 10k chapter.

And without further wait-

ONTO THE CHAPTER

* * *

Even during his relative short life of 19 years, Allster knew and understood things rarely went according to plan. Usually life ended up screwing you over in the most magnificent or frustrating way possible.

Or well he thought he knew. Now with the cacophony of gunshots starting to die down and seeing a murderous Rem in front of him, he understood just how fucked he was.

He had a knife and nothing else and while he thought himself as a decent hand to hand fighter there was no way he'd be able to stand his ground against the supernatural abilities of Rem. Perhaps even Ram and Emilia as they were no doubt on their way.

His hand clutched the knife in a death grip. The two combatants locked eyes. For him this was worst possible situation.

For Rem, this was what she was waiting for.

He swallowed some spit that had accumulated. "Now...Rem, I'll say this. It's not me."

He knew she didn't understand a word and he also knew he probably only antagonized her further. He refrained from taking any further aggressive action, thinking of anything or anyone who could possibly have gotten their hands on his rifle. Or the weapons of the dead Marines.

His heart pounded inside his chest, adrenaline was pumping through his veins. He was ready to fight.

Question was, could he get past the pissed off superhuman maid in front of him? He couldn't fight her, not in a fair fight anyway. He had to find a way to get past her and make a run for it.

With a grimace he readied himself to fight the creature in front of him.

He heard her chains rattle and ducked instinctively. Ignoring how close he came to having his head torn off he charged forward, taking his hands off his knife he dove forward and tackled her to the ground.

As they tumbled to the ground he could feel the iron grip she had on him as she tried to pry him off of her.

'Not a chance!' With a viciously thrown elbow, he threw all he had at her ribs. After a couple rapid hits he felt the solid ribs give way with a sickening crunch. He shot up, her grip weakened from the shock and pain. Straddling her he threw a jab at her throat, causing her hands to fly up to her throat.

Coughing Rem struggled underneath the man, no killer. With a hateful glare she prepared to summon her weapon again but before she could she felt another vicious blow to her tender sides, causing her cough up blood.

Internal bleeding she realized. For the briefest moments her eyes closed in agony and when she opened them she saw that he had gotten off of her and was already sprinting away from her.

With a small groan of pain she stood up, all the while clutching her sides. She hadn't expected him to charge at her at such speeds. It had taken her by surprise.

Forcing herself to ignore the pain she stumbled forward before breaking out into a run, intent on catching the killer, Allster.

All the while said man was using whatever he had to make his way to his gear. Mentally he seethed at the thought of escaping without any of his weapons. He needed to find them.

He prayed that they were still in the same place as he had seen last time but knew instinctively that most if not all of his gear would be missing. He had seen Ram moving some of his gear around earlier after all.

Ignoring the roar of anger that was no doubt from Rem he opened the door and burst inside.

To his horror only a single rifle and pistol remained along with a handful of ammunition for both. In the moment he remembered seeing Ram moving around some of their gear, it seemed like she had almost finished with the exception of the two weapons laid out in front of him.

Gritting his teeth in anger he frantically pulled on his kevlar and crammed the pouches with the leftover magazines. He strapped on his pistol holster on his thigh and slid the M45 service pistol in. Slinging a rifle across his chest he grabbed a handful of magazines for his pistol and shoved it into his cargo pockets.

Hearing the patter of footsteps he whipped around to find Ram at the doorway. He snapped up his rifle and aimed it at the red haired maid.

Freezing in place she stood still, knowing what the weapon could do.

He walked forward causing her to step back. When she stopped however his eyes narrowed. She was going to try something.

"Like hell you are." He growled lowly. Snapping his aim to the left he fired his weapon into the wall.

Seeing the maid cover her ears at the deafening blast of his rifle he took the advantage and kicked her down before sprinting away from her.

He wasn't looking to kill anyone, just escape. With a grimace he pushed himself through the burning sensation in his legs. He knew he was being greedy when he overloaded himself with the ammunition for the rifl. Not like he cared though, if anything he would've taken more of the pistol rounds too if he had more time.

After running for what seemed like forever he practically leaped down the steps towards the front door.

Freezing he found Emilia and the spiritual being that was Puck, both had an unreadable expression. Though he could make out the traces of sadness from Emilia.

For a moment the three stood still, neither of them making any moves of aggression.

" _You!"_

With an audible groan he turned around to face a vengeful looking Rem, as if to make matters worse a pissed off Ram made her presence known.

Leaping down Rem held her weapon in a threatening manner. Besides her Ram readied her magic.

Taking handful of steps back he put all 4 magical creatures within his view. He placed his rifle on Rem, finger on the trigger he readied himself to fire.

To everyone's surprise Emilia suddenly stepped forward and placed herself between him and the maid twins. A deliberate act that placed her in his sights.

Seeing the pale complexion of the elf through his scope he felt himself slowly lowering his rifle. This was the person who saved him and for some reason he couldn't bring himself to take the first shot. His instinct told him that doing so would only make things worse.

" _...I believe that you're a good person Allster-san."_ He frowned as Emilia started talking. " _I can see that you care for your comrades deeply….and I can see that you're a good person despite what others may say."_

Her expression softened and she pointed towards the door. The gesture was clear, she was letting him go.

" _Please hurry up and leave Allster-san, before someone here does something rash."_

Rem took the moment to recover from her shock. " _Emilia-sama! Why are you letting him go?! He's the cause of everything!"_

" _Rem! Be quiet, this is my decision."_

Unable to completely get over her shock Rem stood there with her sister in numbness.

" _You better get moving Allster-san. Not many are as forgiving as Emilia. Including myself."_ His attention turned to Puck who was floating at the same spot in front of the door with an impassive expression.

While he didn't understand completely what Emilia and Puck had said, he could take an pretty accurate educated guess. They were letting him go.

For whatever reason Emilia had decided to let him go. His eyes flickered over to the maid twins, they seemed on the verge of killing him, order from their master or not.

Taking a breath he began slowly backing away from the group and towards the door, his sights never leaving Rem. In his peripherals he saw Puck next to him, meaning he was close to the door.

Leaving his right hand on the trigger he reached back with his left to open the door. To his further surprise the door was unlocked, as he casually twisted the knob and pushed open the door. He had half expected it to be locked and the moment he touched the door the twins would attack him but no such thing came.

They stayed rooted in their spots, their hateful expressions marring their face. They two were ticking time bombs and with every passing second their ire grew.

He took a couple steps and finally out of the mansion. The cool night time air met his skin and he took one final look at his savior.

" _...Gomenasai."_ And with those parting words he turned and ran away from the mansion as fast as he could.

He breathed heavily as he ran.

" _Don't leave…."_

It wasn't like he had a choice.

" _It wasn't you…"_

No really, he didn't even know who or what had caused those sounds. The sounds of gunfire.

" _You're making a mistake…."_

He slowed to a stop on the trail and took a moment to lean against a tree. He smacked his helmet a couple times.

'What the fuck is wrong with my head?' He thought to himself, getting annoyed by the ghostly voice in his head.

Both now and yesterday he had heard a voice in his head. The first time he had ignored it for the most part, preferring to keeping himself alive from the demonic beasts.

'Mabeasts…' He corrected himself. The voice sounded suspiciously like Emilia's. He turned to look at the direction of the mansion, no longer able see it directly as he had crested a hill.

Shaking his head he faced forward and began lightly jogging forward. Right now he had to find out what had caused the gunfire.

If his guess was correct then it sounded not too far off. Perhaps a couple miles maybe even less.

Huffing from exertion he took the moment to slow to a fast walk. Despite his outward condition he could feel that he was still far from fully recovered. It took a body more than a single day and a nap to recover from an hour long firefight and then fending off a horde of demonic wolves with the munchies.

Grunting he reached for his right shoulder only to freeze before patting his back.

"Shit." He had forgotten his camelback, his water source. Didn't matter if you were the strongest man or not, it meant jack shit if you died from dehydration.

With a sigh he merely shrugged. "Fuck it. Who needs water anyway?" Not like a human was made out of 70 percent water anyway….

Clicking his tongue in annoyance at yet another problem he trudged forward. Now this he didn't mind, a mile or two hike was something he could easily do even in gear. He had done hikes several times longer than this during boot camp and SOI.

Peace of cake.

As he marched through the trail he was glad for the cool summer air that helped keep him cool. He let out a deep breath as he crested a ridge. Wiping the sweat off of his forehead he grunted as he saw the rising smoke off in the distance. Thankfully, the sounds of gunfire had died down. Replaced by the nature sounds of wildlife.

His priorities were to find the culprit of the gunfire. He had to find out who had caused it and how were they able to reproduce firearms in an era of swords and arrows. It meant two things, either magic or there was a way back. Either way he had to find out the people responsible. After that came the prospect of finding a home of some sort.

And money, he had to find a way to make money to at least live in this world even if it was only temporary. Problem was, there wasn't much jobs out there for a man whose profession was to shoot people. Though he was sure he could sell himself to some lord or whatever with his skills and technology. At least he had that going for him.

Problem with that was, he didn't know any lords and the one closest to such position that he knew of just kicked him out.

"This is fucking great." He complained while kicking a stray rock out of his way. "Make my life even more complicated. Fuckin almighty god my pale bullet ridden ass."

He raised his voice to mimic the female pastor he had seen during boot camp. " _God has a plan for each and every one of you. No matter what happens, always know that God works in mysterious ways and his plan for you will always come to fruition."_

He kicked another rock. "Fuck. That. Shit." He narrowed his eyes as he saw a village in the distance. Upon another look it was the very same place he had first met the people of this world.

It was also the place where the columns of smoke was rising up.

"That village has some shit ass luck." He mumbled to himself. Sighing he picked up the pace, secretly dreading what kind of hellish scene he would come across.

It didn't take long for the Marine to reach the village. As he closed in on the village he could hear the cries of the wounded.

A stone dropped in his stomach as he entered the village. Bullet holes littered the buildings and the injured were being frantically treated by none other than Emilia and the maids who had somehow passed him along the way. There was also a blonde child among them helping.

He ignored the surprised and outright hostile looks he received from the maids. Opting to reach for his IFAK kit and the one he had plundered from a dead Marine during the firefight in Fallujah. He didn't have much left after treating the two wounded Marines and himself but he could help a person or two until Emilia could help with her magic.

It would stave off death for a handful of minutes at best.

And so he got to work using the remaining medical supplies in his IFAK kits to help the injured. The dead were being placed off the side with a blanket over them. By the second person he had nothing left and by the third he was making makeshift tourniquets with strips of cloth ripped from people clothes.

He didn't know how long he had been working but by the time he had finished he had a very angry Ram staring him down.

Standing up he froze as he saw something very familiar.

Spent bullet casings, all over the place. More importantly he knew the sizes of those casing by heart, having owned a the rifle that fired the cartridge.

It was casings for 30-06 that was chambered in the M1 Garand. Among them were smaller casings ranging from 9mm to .45 caliber.

A chill ran down his spine as he saw something that anyone that had an interest in military and military history would recognize, a patch of an eagle for the 101st Airborne in the US Army and a deaths head worn on the uniforms of the Nazis during World War Two. Side by side it painted an ugly and frightening picture.

A million questions ran through his mind, any potential answers looking worse by the second.

"Fucking fuck….the hell is this shit?" He mumbled out, feeling numb from it all.

He gritted his teeth in anger. He needed answers. Now.

Grunting he shoved the two items in his breast pockets and made his way over to the village chief. Or someone who looked like the chief.

Taking out his phone he typed in what he wanted to say. Grabbing the attention of the man he spoke in the native tongue in a rather disjointed sentence.

"Attackers, which direction they leave?"

Jumping back a bit the man pointed in a direction. "T-that way…"

With a nod he began marching in the general direction, uncaring for the lack of plan. Merely wanting to hunt the men responsible and ring out some much needed answers.

Unfortunately he was stopped before he could even take a dozen steps.

" _Allster-san…."_ Emilia stepped in front of him. Despite not saying a word her question was obvious.

Do you know the people responsible and are you in any way affiliated with them?

His answer back was was a very simple one.

" _Korosu."_ One of the few words he knew in Japanese and it conveyed his feelings quite clearly.

He could see the surprised yet resigned look, as if she had no more words to say. After a moment of silence he let out a sigh.

"Emilia...san." He started off. "Arigatou….for everything." Despite the last part being in English she seemed to understand.

A sad smile made it way onto her features. " _Sayonara, Allster-san."_

"...Sayonara Emilia-san." And with that he made his way around her and into the direction where the village chief had pointed.

With a grim expression he pushed past the foliage and stepped outside the barrier that held back the Mabeasts.

 _Don't leave me….._

He ignored the voice and set his rifle to kill with an ominous click.

His blood was boiling for another fight. This time any hesitation would be squashed. With a steely mind he pushed ahead knowing his actions were foolish.

He had no leads on the whereabouts of the group that had attacked. Only some general direction that may or may not be wrong in the first place. Even so however he didn't care.

Pulling out his phone he set it airplane mode to conserve the battery before shoving back in his pockets.

Suddenly a howl echoed throughout the forest. A chill was absent, replaced by cold fury and determination. This time he knew what he was fighting. He was ready.

Shouldering his rifle he aimed at the direction of rapidly approaching footsteps.

This time he wouldn't retreat.

* * *

With a grunt he kicked back a stray Mabeast before ending it's life with a round to the head from his rifle. Finally getting used to the holographic sight of his newly acquired rifle. One that had belonged to one of the other Marines. His was hidden somewhere in the mansion along with most of their gear.

Suppressing the rise in anger he turned to focus on the trail of footprints he had been following for the last couple hours. Footsteps that sunk suspiciously deep into the ground, most likely boots of some sort. With a single-minded zeal he pursued the one lead he had found.

Said footprints belonged to several men judging from the sheer width of the trail. Broken branches, small scuffs on trees, to the bent grass made it easy to keep the trail. Even while being attacked by Mabeasts.

He knew on the back of his mind he was heading straight into a fire team perhaps even squad sized group of men armed with modern weaponry while blasting his location to the high skies with his rifle. It was most likely he was heading straight into an ambush but he was prepared for a fight.

A moment later he had found his ambush, except finding bullets headed his way he found the people who would've been responsible for said bullets.

They merely stood there, weapons held across their chest in a neutral position. More importantly the muzzles were pointed towards the ground instead of at him.

Instantly their uniforms and equipment confirmed his suspicions.

The three men who wore the infamous uniforms of the German Wehrmacht.

The duo that wore the iconic uniforms of the American GI's during WWII. One of which had his patch ripped off.

History called the two enemies yet in front of him the 5 man fireteam seemed more like friends than foe.

They didn't seem surprised at finding him, if only curious of his desert attire.

What surprised him most about the group was their youth. They were perhaps only a few years older than him. That was….weird to say the least, with the Second World War being some 70 years ago.

He didn't bother shouldering his rifle, merely copying them and keeping it in a slinged position across his chest. Showing any outward aggression would only worsen the situation, he could figure that much at least.

"So," He started off lamely. "You guys speak English?"

The small group looked at him in amusement before one of them responded to the question, one who was wearing the patch of the 101st. He was among the best the Army had to offer, the Screaming Eagles.

"Yeah we do. 'cept the sauerkrauts over there. They speak retard." The man had an exceedingly relaxed voice, as if he hadn't just shot up a defenseless village.

One of the German soldiers gave the man an annoyed glare. "We speak English fine, thank you. Actually why don't you try your hand at German? I hear you Americans are quite good with languages."

The airborne soldier waved off the not-so-subtle jab. "I think I'll pass, I already know Japanese and how to read the language here. By the way…." He turned his attention to Allster, more importantly the Eagle, Globe and Anchor displayed proudly on his uniform. "You're a Marine?" It was more of a statement then a question.

Allster didn't bother responding back immediately, only frowning as he grew more confused. The Americans and Germans were working together, they weren't old men ready to keel over and somehow they got to this...world like he did with his Marines.

For a moment he stood there in silence before mentally shrugging. "So mind telling me why you fuckers shot up that village?"

Let it be known Marines didn't particularly care for tact.

Allster could see the group tense at the question and readied himself for a fight. Mentally mapping out the bits of solid cover and getting ready to prepare one of his grenades.

The lead man however merely sighed. "That….is a long story."

"Oh? Do tell."

This time they fell into silence, letting the sounds of nature envelope them. After a while the silence was broken by a deep and tiresome sigh.

"Would you believe it if I said we didn't have a choice?"

Allster narrowed his eyes. That most definitely didn't sound good. Such a question had many implications. Hostage situation, political pressure and a third party element all came to mind.

Were they being forced by someone who wanted to use them for their technology and skills? Or perhaps a comrade of theirs was being held captive? Maybe even a village under threat of annihilation.

Or maybe it was all a lie. Perhaps he was seeing the bad apples that humanity had to offer.

"...tell me Marine, how long have you been here?

The question caught him off guard. "About two days maybe."

The answer had them whistling in surprise. "Damn, you going through some shit Marine. At least we had a few days to relax before shit got crazy."

'Don't I know it.' Allster thought knowingly.

"Alright and you do know who the pretty lady in the mansion is right?"

Allster shrugged. "Emilia? Some lord right?"

He could hear him snort. "Miss Emilia isn't "some lord" she is one of five candidates to take the crown of the Kingdom of Lugnica and as a half elf who resembles the Witch of Envy, she has earned the attention of many unsavory groups."

"Like what?" Allster growled out, already starting to see the pieces coming together.

Emilia's territory attacked, her status as a candidate for the throne along with her half elf blood. It made for a clear motive behind the attack.

The soldiers eyes grew serious. "...Tell me Marine,have you ever heard of the Witches Cult?"

* * *

"I still think it was a bad idea to let him go Emilia-sama."

For what seemed like the thousandth time Emilia let out a sigh. "I know Ram and I also know how Rem too."

"You saw what happened to Alam Village Emilia-sama. The kinds of wound inflicted on the people couldn't have been from any normal magic or weapons. The only kind of wounds we saw that were similar were the ones from the Mabeasts that Allster killed."

"It doesn't mean he was responsible for the attack!"

Ram merely crossed her arms. "I am not saying he is but there is a possibility that he was a spy or his presence here caused it."

"Well he's gone now." She huffed, ending the conversation there.

With a sigh Ram let the topic go….for now. Her thoughts went to the equipment the man had left behind. Rather it was better to say she had placed them somewhere else, it was a shame that she wasn't able to hide all of it before everything went to hell.

Still though he had managed to get past both her and Rem, that in itself was pretty impressive. Add on top of the fact that he had managed to escape with some of his gear still made him an all too present threat to Emilia.

At this point she wouldn't be surprised if he was a part of the other candidates camps.

"Ram?"

Her thoughts were broken as she heard Emilia call her. "Yes Emilia-sama?"

"We also need to get ready for the burial of Luis and Howard-san tomorrow morning."

It took Ram a moment to recognize the names. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Emilia-sama, you can't mean that you're still going to give them a proper burial?!"

Emilia didn't back down from the accusation. "I promised Allster-san that I'd give them a proper burial."

"But….." Ram fell silent as she saw the resolute look on her face. "...Very well Emilia-sama, Rem and I will prepare for the burial tomorrow morning." With a curt bow she turned and quickly left Emilia's office, unable to completely hide her frustration.

Seeing the red haired maid stomp out of her office Emilia couldn't help but let out a tired sigh. 'I hope I was right to trust in you Allster-san.'

* * *

"So blasting beetlejuice in the face won't fix the problem?" Allster asked curiously, usually a bullet to the face fixed a lot of problems.

"Betelgeuse. And yes, the man has the ability to possess other people. Unless you kill all of them then it's useless." Didn't help that the Cult had a decent chunk of followers.

"Boss man," Interrupted the other soldier. "It's getting late. We need to head back before they send out out a party to look for us."

Clicking his tongue the airborne soldier took the chance to look around. "Alright that's enough for now. This is where we part ways. Until next time Marine."

"Private First Class Allster, I've got a name."

The soldier smirked. "Corporal Dalton." He turned to the Germans. "The sauerkrauts are Muller, Schmidt and Fischer. If you want to know their rank then ask them, I can't pronounce them worth a damn."

Allster shook his head. "Nah, like I'd understand that Germanic bullshit. Your last names are good enough."

"And I'm Andy," Introduced the last airborne soldier. "Now can I get my patch back?"

Snorting in amusement Allster dug into his pockets and tossed the soldier his patch before turning to the trio of German soldiers. "Whose deaths head I've got?"

The man known as Muller raised his hand and Allster gingerly tossed the man the ornament for his uniform.

Taking a step back Allster cradled his rifle. "So before yall leave, do yall know how to get to the nearest village? Preferably ones not in Emilia's territory."

"Go north American, that way for about six kilometers." Muller pointed out. "There's a small town, traders stop by there frequently. From there, it is all up to you."

Allster looked at Muller for a moment before nodding. "Alright, well then see yall later. Hopefully I won't have to shoot you guys next time."

The dry joke wasn't particularly well received seeing as there was a real possibility they would end up on the opposite sides of a firefight.

Corporal Dalton bid his farewell. "Yeah... hopefully….well in any case good luck Marine. See you on the other side."

With a nod Allster turned north, he had another march to walk. "Rah Corporal 'til next time. Same to the rest of you."

After a round of short waves the group turned and began their own journey.

Allster stood leaning against a tree, standing there motionless as the last visage of the iconic uniforms disappeared into the foliage.

Breathing out through his nose Allster pushed himself off of the tree and began making his way north. He briefly pulled out his phone, checking the time.

0144.

While he had to fiddle with the time seeing as he wasn't in Iraq anymore but he was sure the time was correct. He had matched it with the clocks inside the mansion after all along with the date.

Surprisingly the world he was in had the traditional four seasons and 12 months. So thankfully that was one thing he didn't have to worry about too much.

He found himself yawning as he glanced at the time. As he did so he found himself unable to completely ignore the aching in his feet.

Clicking his tongue he shoved the thought of resting to the back of his mind. Last time he took breaks two Marines had died on his watch. This time he'd walk until he reached his destination or until his feet fell off.

Stepping over a large root he winced as he came to realization that he was dehydrated pretty badly.

Long hours of walking on top of not hydrating properly ever since he woke up made sure that he'd be suffering.

He ignored the dry scratchy feeling of his throat in favor for continuing forward. As far as he saw it, the faster he got to that village then the faster he could rest.

As he continued his lone march he could feel himself sweating, the wet sensation of the liquid trickling down his body. He took that as a good sign. It meant that he still had enough water for his body to sweat out.

It meant that he could still function.

He didn't know how long he had walked but eventually he had escaped the claustrophobic forest and into the rolling plains that seemed to stretch on for miles.

Stopping at the top of a small hill he squinted his eyes as he struggled to see out in the distance. "Is that smoke?" He whispered to himself.

It looked like it but it could've been his eyes playing tricks on him. It would be incredibly hard to see smoke out from his distance at night.

After another moment Allster merely shrugged before making his way towards the direction of the supposed smoke. Taking the quiet moment as a chance to take inventory he began counting his ammunition.

He had a total of 14 magazines, 3 magazines shoved in 4 magazine pouches and one in his cargo pants and one in his rifle. Meaning he would've had a pretty hefty 420 rounds. Would've. In the the best case scenario he would've had that much but he been fighting the Mabeasts throughout the night.

He had already burned through 4 magazines and was a third of the way through his fifth. So roughly speaking he had around 300 rounds to work with.

He took a moment to take a knee. Sighing as he saw the empty magazines he took them from their pouches and tossed them on the ground. Taking out the magazines for his pistol he took inventory of them before placing them inside the freed up space in his magazine pouch on his chest. Grabbing the empty magazines he shoved them into his cargo pockets.

With a grunt he stood up and began walking once more.

Six pistol magazines with one already inside the pistol making seven in total.

Two fragmentation grenades and a single smoke grenade.

He had two empty IFAK kits,meaning he had no more medical supplies.

He had no water and his extra gear was stashed away somewhere in the mansion, in the hands of people who didn't know how to use them. And if they figured out how to use them…..

He bristled in anger as he imagined his rifle being used not by him but by a red haired maid.

A slew of curses came out of his mouth. "That fucking red haired cunt fuck. Fucking magical girl touching my shit. God damn it." He spit into the the ground in distaste.

"Next time I swear to Buddha's floppy tits and earlobe, I am going to slit open her throat and shit down her neck."

Let it be known Marine Infantry had a twisted sense of humor. Or perhaps this time, it wasn't humor.

He let out a breath and looked upward. Now that he was closer he could definitely make out the rising smoke, in fact it was a surprising amount of it.

Another feeling of dread washed over him.

"No…..don't tell me this shits happening again." He growled out before sprinting up a small hill. As he crested the hill however he sighed in relief.

In the center of the large town, larger than the one in Emilia's territory, was a large bonfire. Surrounding the largest one were sever smaller ones and the village was bustling with activity despite the ungodly hour.

"They're having a party?" He wondered out loud.

'Shit when was the last time I went to a proper party?' He tough to himself, already making his way down the hill and getting his phone ready for some hardcore translating.

Of course getting trashed in the barracks didn't really count. He did that every other week.

As he got closer he could make out a large group sitting around the fire, relaxing and enjoying themselves.

It brought a small smile to his face, remembering the nostalgic memories of the numerous camping trips. Some of with friends, some with church and many more with his family.

The family that he loves.

The family that he missed.

Shaking his head of the errant thought he slowed his pace to a steady walk. He didn't want to barge into the party without making his presence known. Better them knowing someone was heading their way than him trying to sneak in there.

He was infantry damn it, he did not sneak. The guys in Recon did that so he didn't have to.

Already he could see the heads turning to face him. Already he could feel the gazes of strange curiosity and careful tension fall upon him.

Apparently it didn't matter if he was in the deathly hot cities of Fallujah, Iraq or this backwards ass world of voodoo magic, a Marine become the center of attention. Whether or not it was a good thing remained to be seen.

As he entered the vibrant town he gave the occasional passerby a wave and greeting. He knew how to introduce himself at the very least after repeating himself nearly a dozen times at the Emilia owned mansion.

He made his way through the stone streets and houses. Making sure that he was going towards the large fire in the town center, presumably the town square.

After stopping someone and playing another round of charades the young Marine finally reached his destination.

Walking into the town square he let himself relax slightly at the vibrant chatter of the people around him. The atmosphere was calm, everyone was enjoying themselves with the food and people around them.

Standing there idly he took several glances around him, feeling the sensation that he was being watched. Which wasn't too far off from the truth.

Around him he could see many of the villagers whispering amongst themselves at his arrival. Sighing he let his grip on his rifle loosen just a bit for now there he could relax just a bit.

His attention was suddenly drawn to an opening in the crowd.

Walking through the parting crowd was a girl with long dark green hair and amber eyes. Dressed in armor and a sword held at her side it looked like she was the one in charge. He reached inside his pocket and pulled out his phone and opened up the translation app.

He stood still and let his hands be where she could see them clearly. The girl slowed to a stop a handful of paces in front of him, enough to defend herself and those around if he proved hostile while maintaining a non threatening posture.

She introduced herself first.

" _State your name and business stranger."_

Allster glanced at the phone, reading the translated message.

With not so well practiced and heavily accented tone he introduced himself.

"Hello, I am Allster." He gave them a forced smile. "Soldier, friendly."

He saw the girl frown.

" _Do you not speak the language…..Allster-san?"_

He shook his head. "New here." He typed something into his phone. "Lost friends, know no one." He coughed into his hands. "Who you?"

She eyed him carefully before relaxing slightly. "My name is Crusch Karsten, head of the Karsten House and one of the candidates to become the 42nd King of Lugnica."

Allster looked at his phone before narrowing his eyes. After taking a double take at the translation he found himself crying on the inside from both relief and despair. Relief that he may have found his ticket to survival. Despair that he was dealing with someone else on such a political pedestal. As if Emilia and her lot wasn't bad enough.

Finally he settled on merely sighing at the new development.

"...Fuck me right."

* * *

And that is a close to this chapter, hope yall enjoyed it.

So for now hope you guys had a great Christmas and have a Happy New Years!

See yall next time!

P.S. -insert shameless begging here- REVIEW and WORSHIP the godlike animation of UFOTABLE, THE HYPE TRAIN FOR HEAVENS FEEL HAS LEFT THE BUILDING!


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